


life happens, coffee helps (and so do you)

by halfofacrackedbluesky



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Phil Lester, British Tyler Oakley, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, University Student Dan Howell, dan has a crush, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfofacrackedbluesky/pseuds/halfofacrackedbluesky
Summary: Dan makes friends with the barista at the local coffee shop.(on hiatus)





	1. Chapter 1

 

Dan Howell is a mess.

Not just any mess, either; he's a puddle of dog vomit that was left out to dry on the pavement. Maybe even worse than that, he thinks. At least dog vomit just sits there and doesn't actively annoy anyone unless you step in it, in which case it is pretty annoying. Meanwhile Dan’s existence already annoys the crap out of himself, much less the people around him.

He sighs and drags a hand up his face. Now really isn't the time to go off into a tangent about the general shittiness of his life and himself, or start contemplating his worthless existence. He does that regularly enough. What he is supposed to do now, however, is actually start properly looking for his spare laptop charger. Which shouldn't be that hard to find, except…

Well, Dan had never really been organised, had he? Plus, he suspects that being messy is a Howell family trait.

So now here he is, sitting in what’s practically an entire roomful of cardboard boxes, each one labelled with “Dan’s property. Beware!!!”, and filled with all the miscellaneous stuff that had somehow landed into his hands since the age of thirteen. Instead of properly storing each item like a normal human being, he had chucked all the things that he had no immediate use for into the boxes, and left them there like that. After six years, the stuff had started overflowing onto the floor, and Dan had procrastinated tidying it up until whenever his mum appeared, in which case he would simply shove it all under his bed.

Okay, fine, so maybe Dan has a little bit of a tidying problem. As well as a procrastination one. But hey, it wouldn't be the first time (and definitely not the last) that he regretted his past life choices.

Not that the regret is actually making him do anything. About fifteen minutes into trying to unpack the boxes (maybe an entire roomful was too big an exaggeration - there were only three actually, he didn't have that much stuff) he had simply lost the will, as he always seems to do. He had also managed to convince himself that it would take less effort if he just used his phone instead of his laptop for the next month until he was due for university, in which case he would be able to use the charger that he had packed into his luggage.

(Which Dan really didn't want to dig through.)

So now he's sitting on the floor instead.

He thinks vaguely that it's quite funny, in a weird sort of way. Kind of metaphorical, even. He is quite literally a mess, sitting in the middle of a mess, dumped unceremoniously onto the mess that many people call Earth, floating around in a mess of galaxies and stars and black holes devoid of life.

Because that's all the universe is, isn't it? A great big fucking mess.

 

***

 

Dan Howell is leaving for university today, and he can't wait.

Actually, no, who does he think he's kidding?

It had originally seemed like a good idea. A great idea, in fact. It was what everyone said, wasn't it: go to university, study law, become a lawyer, earn lots of money. So Dan went for it - it wasn't like he had any better ideas about what to do with his life anyway. Plus his grades weren't all bad. Not to mention he would be able to live on his own. It would be a new start, of sorts.

Now, however, he wasn't that sure anymore. What if university was just like secondary school, filled with taunts and insults and people who were generally intent on making his life hell? What if he didn't manage to make any friends, and was subjected to loneliness for the rest of eternity? What if he flunked all his classes and didn't graduate?

(and what if he still wasn't good enough?)

Dan knows that he's worrying too much about things that he can't really control, but he can't help it. It's just...university seems like this place where people's dreams were achieved and where people could actually find their direction in life. Dan is by no means an optimistic person - his hopes have been dashed too many times for him to not lower his expectations, yet he can't help but think that university seems like his last and only chance.

For what? He doesn't really know.

(to prove his worth? to have a decent shot at life? to actually make his parents proud of him for once?)

He stares at the ceiling of his room for a while more, taking in the spiderweb cracks of the plaster. For the umpteenth time, he counts them: one, two, three, but he loses track halfway across the ceiling and just stares at the blank spaces in between instead.

(strange, isn't it, how they always focus on the cracks the most.)

From below his room, his mother's voice rises. “Daniel, you're going to have to hurry if you want to catch the bus.”

The reminder parts the haze of his thoughts, and in one fluid motion he stands up, picks up his luggage, and steps out of the room without a backwards glance.

 

***

 

The goodbye is painful.

“Look at you! All grown up and following in your brother’s footsteps.”

“Don't let us down. You have so much potential! Don't let it go to waste, okay?”

“We love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies quietly, and then he shuts the door.

 

***

 

Dan stops at the entrance of the campus, his luggage skidding to a halt.

The university is huge.

From what he can see, it's practically a castle - there are actual towers looming in the distance, like something out of Hogwarts. Even the doors themselves seem to belong in the medieval ages - dark wood studded with iron and giant brass knockers, framed by a massive archway that glints in the September sunlight. Beyond the grey stone walls lies an expanse of green grass, and Dan half expects to find King Arthur himself galloping around on a white horse.

In other words, it's really cool. But also fairly terrifying. It looks as if there are dragons in the dungeons.

Which, refer to previous point about it being _really cool._

His inner seven-year-old is pretty excited right now. Dan’s barely gaped at the scene for long enough, however, when a gruff voice breaks through his reverie.

“Move along, lad. You're blocking the way,” and Dan turns around to see a slightly miffed red-haired man towering over him.

“Oh, s-sorry,” he stammers, then pulls his luggage across the cobblestones. Unfortunately he pulls a little too hard and very nearly falls flat on his face. When he looks up after regaining some semblance of balance, Red Hair is staring at him, looking unimpressed but also slightly concerned.

Dan coughs, hard, then ducks his head and makes his way to the courtyard, dragging his luggage along. Heat floods across his cheeks.

(his first steps on campus, and he's already stumbling.)

(feels kind of like a metaphor for something, yeah?)

(he has to stop thinking about metaphors.)

The courtyard is warm and full of sunlight. Students stand around in clusters, talking and laughing and slapping one another on their backs. None of them seem to notice Dan as he walks across the courtyard, feeling oddly out of place. For that, at least, he's grateful. He doesn't think he could handle any social interaction on the first day; moving in is going to be overwhelming enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a group of parents and their children hugging goodbye, evidently after moving into their rooms. There's a particularly teary farewell going on between a girl and her mum, who are clinging to each other and sobbing quite noisily. Both of them are attracting quite a lot of stares, including Dan's.

It's exactly the thing he wanted to avoid, he thinks. And yet.

He can't help but feel quite - quite alone, all of a sudden.

Well, his parents did ask if he needed company. He was the one who insisted on coming here by himself, and they didn't push after that. He had been glad. He thought - a new start, a new university, a new stage in life - he didn't need his parents to help him settle in, he would be perfectly fine doing it on his own. He was old enough to manage himself independently. It was just the first day of university, after all, he could handle it himself.

Maybe it didn't dawn on him at that time just how…alone he would be. Here, a thousand miles away from home, in a campus where he knew literally no one, and probably wouldn't until he was old and gray and scrolling through the list of University of Manchester alumni on FaceBook.

Oh god, Dan thinks. How did he ever think he would survive? With his supreme lack of social skills, he would be lucky if he managed to talk to a decent person once and not piss them off -

His train of thought is very abruptly cut off when he crashes into someone.

Hard.

It's a guy, Dan notes vaguely from the “oof” that he hears. Right now he's more concerned about the fact that his suitcase just went skidding out of his grip and across the ground, then promptly burst open, scattering his clothes all over the floor, along with any last shreds of dignity he may have had. His fricking underwear is exposed, for god’s sake.

(why on earth did he choose to bring this particularly flimsy suitcase again?)

(scratch that. why on earth did he even come?)

Dan barely spares a glance at the person he just collided with before he dashes over and starts haphazardly stuffing everything that fell out back in. He can feel everyone's eyes on his back with his every movement, and his cheeks flame until he's pretty sure he looks like a tomato. He focuses on the task on hand instead - five, four, three two one done, that's it, finished, everything's inside. He slams the lid of the suitcase shut, then secures it with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.

“Oh god,” says the person when Dan gets up. “Oh god - I'm so sorry - I wasn't looking where I was going - I'm so clumsy seriously - I'm so sorry - ”

“It's fine,” says Dan, hearing the genuine apology in his voice. “It's fine, it really is, don't worry - ”

The guy breaks off abruptly and shoves his hands in his pockets instead. He rocks back and forth on his heels, worrying his lip between his teeth as they look at each other. Dan thinks he's probably one of those geeky types - what with his big black glasses and lanky limbs and general air of awkwardness. Well, he thinks wryly, at least he can relate to the guy on the last aspect.

The silence hangs in the air for a few moments too long, and Dan's about to spout out some form of goodbye and escape when Awkward Stranger blurts out:

“You're in your first year, aren't you?”

Dan nods, now frozen into place.

Awkward Stranger looks kind of like he just accidentally killed a baby. “I'm so sorry, oh my god - I just ruined your first day, didn't I - I'm really really - ”

“No,” Dan cuts in, because he senses that it's going to be a long tirade of apologies. “No, you didn't, and it's fine, really. Really,” he adds hastily when Awkward Stranger opens his mouth again.

The guy subsides. His eyes dart to the side, and Dan takes it as his cue to get the hell of out there and into his room, where he can enjoy a solitary existence and avoid all social encounters from then on.

“By the way, do you know where Hall 2B is?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Go up straight till you see the waterfall, then…turn left, I think, and you should be there.”

“Okay, thanks.” Dan shoots him a small smile, then takes his leave before the awkwardness threatens to swallow him up whole.

(He still looks guilty, actually, and Dan feels kind of bad.)

 

***

 

A while later, Dan doesn't feel bad anymore, he feels _mad._

Go to the waterfall and turn left, that's what he said.

Yeah, right.

Dan's been walking around here for twenty minutes now, and there's still no sign of a Hall 2B. The closest hall he sees is Hall 13, bloody hell. Not to mention there's not a single map of the campus to be found anywhere - no signs too, just endless corridors that lead to nowhere.

He groans, then scrubs a hand up his face. It's just his luck, isn't it, to get lost in this labyrinth of a university after getting the wrong directions from a stranger. There's no one around here that he can ask, either, so Dan settles for wandering aimlessly around instead.

Thanks to Awkward Stranger, he only manages to find his hall nearly an hour later.

 

***

 

By a pure stroke of luck, Dan has a room all to himself on the third floor, which is great. His tendency to stay up till 4am on tumblr might not have gone down very well with his potential roommate, and he thinks that he would much rather stay on his own than live with someone constantly annoyed with him in close proximity.

The room is small but cosy, in a way. Sunlight streams in through the window blinds, blanketing the room with a golden warmth. It seems to sing of future possibilities, and Dan finds himself smiling, all previous frustration forgotten. He plonks down on the bed, and spends the next half hour staring out of the window, soaking in the almost tangible hope.

Maybe it'll be fine after all.

 

***

 

Two days in, and it's not fine, not really. Dan hasn't managed to make a single acquaintance. In fact, the only people he's spoken to since the beginning of term were Red Hair, the nice receptionist lady, and Awkward Stranger.

He tried, he really did. It just so happened that whenever he attempted to say hi to a friendly-looking person, something would happen. More than once, he had just lifted his hand when they got called away by some other student, and Dan was left standing there with his hand half-raised awkwardly in the air. Either that, or he would seize up with nerves and convince himself at the last moment that he was going to get horribly rejected and embarrass himself.

Fine, so he chickened out. Multiple times. Dan had never been under any illusions that he was anything but a coward when it came to socialising - the only friends he ever had were the ones that grew up with him, so there was never really a need for introduction. And anyway, he doesn't really mind. When he's alone he can browse tumblr, watch YouTube, surf through the deep dark depths of the internet, do his own stuff. Study, even. It's not like he's lonely or anything.

Really.

(who is he kidding?)

A week later they get their first assignment, and Dan tries to ignore the twist of his gut when the students leave the lecture theatre in their own little groups, and he leaves alone.

Oh, bloody hell, stop being miserable, he tells himself. Then, because his room feels just a little too stifling and a little too silent, he grabs his assignment and laptop and steps out without a backwards glance.

He'll find a cafe or something to study in, and perhaps it'll feel less suffocating.

 

***

 

Dan walks along the winding park path, dry leaves crunching under his sneakers.

It didn't take much courage to ask the nice receptionist lady for directions to the nearest coffee shop. “Walk through the park, and you can't miss it,” she told Dan, with the air of someone that had given directions a dozen times before. Dan nodded and said thank you, then left.

The lady was right, the coffee shop’s incredibly easy to spot. It's this little place that glows with a golden warmth, nestled in a row of forgotten shops. Dan takes one last breath of crisp autumn air before he pushes open the wooden door, and he is pleasantly surprised to find a seasonally appropriate joke right beneath the “We are OPEN” sign.

_What did one leaf say to the other leaf during autumn?_

 

_I think I'm falling for you. :)_

He's smiling a little as he steps into the cafe, and is instantly enveloped by the scent of coffee and cinnamon. The place is pretty full, which is to be expected, since it's a Friday evening. Dan joins the queue after bagging a seat at the counter, then lets his eyes wander around the store.

Warm and open is how he would describe it. Terrariums hang from the wooden ceilings, and houseplants stand proudly in the corners. Above his head, a chalkboard declares their seasonal special to be the one and only Pumpkin Spice Latte, so Dan decides to get that, if only for the irony.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Dan looks up to see a pair of blue eyes behind familiar-looking geeky glasses.

Oh. It's Awkward Stranger.

For a moment they just stare at each other, wide-eyed.

“You work here?” Dan blurts out after two seconds, then cringes internally. What sort of question is that? Of course he does, he's wearing a brown apron and standing behind the counter, for goodness’ sake.

“Uh - yeah,” Awkward Stranger says, and Dan catches sight of the nametag pinned to his shirt. Phil. Yeah, he kind of looks like a Phil.

“So, um.”

It takes a moment for Dan to realise that Awkward - no, Phil - is waiting for his order. “One pumpkin spice latte, please,” he says quickly, and Phil types in his order.

“For?”

“Dan,” he states simply, and maybe this is silly, but it's actually the first time he's told someone his name since the start of the term, and he feels oddly like he's just accomplished something, like he's passed some sort of milestone. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet.

“Hey, um, this one is going to be on the house, okay?”

Dan blinks at him, startled.

(is that what he thinks it is?)

“As an - as an apology for bumping into you that day,” Phil clarifies a moment later, and Dan coughs, feeling the tips of his ears go bright red.

(what was he thinking? of course.)

“It's fine, actually, you don't have to - ” and god, who is he, a posh rich gentleman with a coiffed moustache from the nineteenth century? But then Phil looks like Dan just kicked his puppy, and for some reason, well, he changes his mind mid sentence.

Well, he was kind of broke anyway. Plus, free drinks are never a bad thing.

“Oh, alright then, thank you,” Dan says instead, and Phil seems to light up from the inside.

“Great,” and he's grinning at Dan, all sincere and earnest. Dan wonders how pathetic he must be for the first smile he's gotten all week to come from a cashier, in a coffee shop no less.

Even so, he finds himself smiling back, and he's still smiling a little as he ducks out of the queue.

 

***

 

Okay, so Phil's not just a cashier. He's a barista, actually. Dan knows this because he's been staring quite unabashedly at the open kitchen for the past few minutes, from his vantage point of the counter seat. His assignment lies in front of him, neglected, but Dan can't bring himself to care.

Watching Phil mix drinks is weirdly hypnotising. His motions have a sort of grace and precision about them, and it makes Dan wonder if the barista behind the counter really is the awkward guy who quite literally bumped into him two days ago, then proceeded to give him completely wrong directions. They seem like two different people, Dan muses as Phil pours milk into a mug.

“Pumpkin Spice Latte for Dan!” The girl at the counter calls, pulling Dan out of his thoughts. Phil looks up then, and shoots Dan a small smile.

He blinks, startled.

When he manages to return the smile, Phil has already looked away.

Oh well.

He sets his mug down next to the spread of papers on the counter, then opens up his laptop. He figures he could read up on the assignment first, since he has no idea how to start, and he takes a casual sip of the latte as the page struggles to load.

Oh.

_Ohhh._

Dan takes another sip, eyes going wide. This isn't just good - this is - this is what heaven would taste like, if he believed in heaven. The flavours are amazing, and he can feel the latte warming him from the inside out. It's kind of the best coffee he's ever drunk in his entire nineteen years of age, actually, and he's not exaggerating when he says he has to bite down hard on his lip to stop an inappropriately sexual-sounding moan from coming out.

Phil made this?

Dan wonders just how much it would take to for Phil to make him coffee every day.

The page manages to load, then, so Dan puts away all thoughts of kidnapping Phil and starts researching on his assignment instead. The warmth of the mug seeps in through his palms as he reads, and the background chatter fades into a steady hum of noise. It's not long before he's fully immersed, and even though it's not really enjoyable (how could studying ever be?) Dan has to admit that the atmosphere of the coffee shop is helping a lot.

It feels like too soon before his mug is empty. Dan kind of regrets not drinking it as slowly as possible. And as much as he wants to stay in this warm cocoon of a store, he knows he can't - it would be weird, so he closes his laptop and tucks it under his arm with his assignment. His chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up, and his gaze drifts over to the open kitchen once more.

He hesitates.

Then he thinks, oh fuck it, and leans over the counter.

“Hey, Phil,” he says, and Phil looks up from whatever weird latte art he's drawing, one eyebrow quirked.

“Thanks for the coffee, it was really great,” Dan blurts before he loses the courage, then bites down on his tongue hard. His hand is still splayed over the wooden swirls of the counter, and he is suddenly painfully aware of how awkward he probably looks.

Phil blinks. Then smiles, small and quick.

“You're welcome! I'm glad you like it.”

“Okay, um,” Dan swallows. “Bye, then.”

Phil grins this time. “Bye! Hope to uh, see you soon?”

Dan nods once, gives an awkward wave, then hastily makes his escape.

Somehow his steps feel lighter as he walks back to campus, and Dan thinks that maybe it's not just because of his progress on his assignment, or the caffeine in his veins.

 

***

 

Dan finds himself going back there after three days, laptop and study materials tucked under his arm.

For the coffee, he tells himself.

(life is too short for bad coffee anyway.)

This time the cafe is less crowded, and Dan manages to get a corner booth next to the window, with a view of the park. Phil’s working behind the counter again, and for a moment Dan wonders if he should go over and say hello. Then he decides not to, because firstly they don't even know each other, and secondly, well, he's a coward.

(also, when does this guy have time to study?)

He gets a caramel latte this time, and watches the kitchen covertly to see if it's Phil who makes it. It is, and in fact Phil seems to be the only barista here. Dan sighs into the drink, satisfied smile pulling up the corners of his mouth even as he delves into his study materials, books and papers spread out on the table in front of him. There's a test coming up next week, their professor said, and though Dan is usually an avid procrastinator, he finds himself wanting to do well, at least just for this first test.

Halfway through the drink and lost in the world of law, he hears:

“Hey, um, it's Dan, right?”

He looks up; it's Phil, with a friendly smile on his face.

“H-Hey,” he stutters, then looks down at his book in an attempt to avoid the upcoming awkward conversation.

When Phil doesn't take the hint and sits down opposite him after untying his apron, Dan braces himself.

“Whoa, you study law?” Phil sounds impressed, and he's glancing at one of the papers when Dan looks up again.

He nods.

Then, just to fill the silence, he asks, “What about you?”

Phil seems to light up from the inside. “I'm an English major,” he says, and the pride in his voice tells Dan that he's truly enjoying what he's studying, which is more than can be said for Dan.

Maybe it's because of this, or maybe it's the ambience of the cafe, or the barely-concealed expectance in Phil’s eyes - Dan puts away his book. It's okay, he hadn't really been absorbing any information anyway.

“So, uh, what sort of music do you like?”

 

***

 

An hour later, Dan’s mug is empty and he's grinning.

Conversation flowed surprisingly well - even though Phil had seemed just as awkward as Dan in the beginning, he had been astonishingly easy to talk to, especially after discovering that they both liked Muse. They liked the same animes, too, and very quickly Dan found himself embroiled in a heated discussion about RinHaru vs MakoHaru. He's laughing, though - Phil seems to have the habit of slipping random puns and blatant innuendos into any opening of the conversation. Things like, “He's free to choose who he wants to like! Get it? Free?” and “They do get wet together really often, though.”

Dan can't help but crack up, even as he covers his face with his hands and groans.

Phil giggles, then glances at the clock at the corner of the room. Dan follows his eyes, and is surprised to find that so much time had passed.

“My break is up now, so I gotta…” Phil points to the counter, adjusting his glasses sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah, uh, sorry. I'd better be going too.” Dan says, suddenly awkward again, and starts to pack up his study materials. When he looks up again, Phil is already behind the counter with his apron on, pumping syrup into a drink.

Dan grabs another caramel latte to go before he leaves.

 

***

 

The third time he goes to the coffee shop, Phil isn't there. Dan tries to ignore the heavy feeling at the bottom of his stomach, but the coffee he gets just doesn't taste as good.

He asks the girl behind the counter for Phil’s schedule before he leaves.

(is that considered stalkerish?)

(maybe.)

 

***

 

The fourth time, Dan arrives to find the coffee shop mostly empty, and Phil leaning against the counter tapping on his phone.

“Hey,” he says before he can stop himself, and Phil looks up. He grins, bright and blinding.

“Hey,” and he slips his phone into his pocket. “Did you know that the longest time twins have been born apart was 87 days?”

Dan blinks, then seats himself at the counter. Well, that's certainly one way to start a conversation, he thinks, then smiles.

“No,” he says aloud. “No, I didn't. That - that's quite cool, actually.”

“Yeah, right? I kind of wish I had a twin sometimes.”

Dan thinks for a while, then says, “Imagine if you were completely identical, though. You would get mistaken for each other all the time.” He pauses. “But also, the power.”

Phil laughs. “Yeah, imagine all the stuff you could do with a carbon copy of yourself. Maybe you could even take over the world.”

They spend the rest of the evening just talking and laughing, and Dan feels lighter than he's had in ages.

 

***

 

Just like everything else going on in university, it becomes kind of a routine.

Dan goes to the coffee shop on the afternoons when Phil is on shift, and Phil spends his break hour talking to Dan. They talk about fish and fidget spinners and fairies and everything else under the sun, and sometimes they just spend the time making each other laugh. Dan always feels oddly proud when he succeeds, and Phil’s laughter rings out like a chiming bell.

Plus, Phil forever has some weird fact or story or anecdote to tell. It surprises Dan, the way he is so willing to share about certain facets of his personal life, and Dan sort of envies that kind of natural openness that he himself lacks so severely. It makes Dan want to open up too, and he finds himself letting Phil in more and more with every passing day. Pretty soon he's telling Phil about stuff he never thought he would tell anyone before - random, simple things like how he broke his arm as a kid one April Fools’ Day, how he never knew how to swim until he fell into the pool by accident. Phil takes in all of these stories with genuine interest and a smile, and Dan always, always finds himself smiling back.

(being with Phil is sort of like basking in the sun.)

Dan sees a group of boys laughing together at lunch one day, and just like many times before, he wonders if he'll ever have that sort of easy, comfortable friendship with someone. Then it hits him - he does.

With Phil.

 

***

 

A few weeks later, Dan steps into the coffee shop to find Phil chatting to two people sitting in front of the counter as he wipes a mug. His first reaction is to slink out of the door and pretend he never came, but then Phil glances up and sees him. His entire face lights up, and he motions for Dan to come over.

So he does, albeit awkwardly.

“Dan, this is Louise and Tyler,” Phil says, then bites his lip. The inflection of his voice is slightly uncertain, and Dan wonders why.

The girl (blond ringlets) and the guy (blond and gelled) both swivel around in their seats. The girl sticks out her hand with a friendly grin.

“Hi! I'm Louise. Nice to meet you, Dan.”

He shakes her hand after a moment’s pause. “Nice to meet you too,” he says automatically, though the voices in his head are chiming _what's happening what's going on new person alert new person alert this isn't phil don't mess this up don't you dare_ -

The guy - Tyler - leans over and shakes Dan’s hand too. “Yeah, it's nice to finally get to know you.” His smile is teasing as he adds, “We were just talking about how Phil couldn't seem to stop mentioning you in everything he says.”

Oh.

Um.

Behind the counter, Phil splutters, face flushed, then reaches over and whacks Tyler on the arm. Tyler just sticks out his tongue at Phil, who splutters even more, and the entire exchange is so natural that Dan lets out a surprised laugh.

Louise rolls her eyes, but the fondness in them sort of ruins the effect. She motions for Dan to sit down next to her, then says, “So. Are you a cat or a dog person?”

Dan blinks.

She looks amused. “Don't worry, I'm not going to judge you for it,” she says. “It's one of my go-to conversation starters, y’know?”

Dan wouldn't know. But it does seem like a pretty good idea - the idea of having conversation starters to get to know someone.

He thinks for a moment. “Dogs, I think. Though I like cats too,” he says, but the last part of his reply is drowned out by Tyler’s excited whoop. Louise sighs a little, the same fond exasperation from before making a reappearance.

“See, I knew I would like you!” Tyler declares happily, then hops over to the seat next to Dan and raises his palm for a high five. Dan returns it with a slightly bemused smile, then looks over and shoots a questioning look at Phil, who just grins and shrugs a little helplessly.

The conversation carries on, and Dan feels himself start to relax. They're both genuinely nice and interesting people, Tyler and Louise - Louise has a cheerful, big-sister kind of vibe that makes Dan feel incredibly at ease, and Tyler is basically a fusion of a kid and a flirty Casanova with buckets of sass added in.

Dan likes them. He can see why Phil does, too.

When Phil gets called away to deal with the slowly lengthening crowd and leaves the group, Dan finds himself panicking, if just for a moment. He's not at all sure that he can hold the conversation without Phil around as his anchor, as his link to these people. But then Louise smiles at him and Dan feels his awkwardness evaporate into mist.

The conversation flows naturally, and before long they're all laughing at some weird joke Tyler made. This is ridiculously easy, Dan thinks, just falling into step with two people he met minutes ago. Maybe it's because they're both extremely friendly people, or maybe.

Maybe he's been blowing the difficulties of socialising out of proportion all along.

Phil looks equal parts relieved and bemused to find them all giggling like schoolkids when he returns. Dan meets his eyes and shoots him a small smile, and Phil breathes out and returns it, eyes warm.

And that's enough for Dan to start hoping for Tyler and Louise to leave soon, rude as it may seem. Yes, they're fun and nice people, but talking with them just isn't the same as talking alone with Phil, not by a mile. There's a sense of comfort that Dan finds himself missing.

He kind of loses track of the conversation after that.

Eventually they do leave, and Dan waits till they are gone before he lays his head down onto the counter.

He hears Phil laugh above him. “Why, was it that bad?”

Dan raises his head to look at him properly. Phil has never been good at hiding emotions, Dan thinks, and he pulls apart the veneer of amusement easily enough to find worry and trepidation underneath.

(he really wants Dan to like them, doesn't he?)

(huh.)

“No,” Dan says honestly. “No, they were really nice people. Far less weird than you, I would say. Maybe I'll ditch you for them, I'll think about it.”

Phil shoves at Dan almost immediately with an expression of mock betrayal on his face even as his eyes light up. “I should have known that you would do this to me one day,” he wails, and this time it's his turn to collapse face-first into the counter. “How could I _ever_ have trusted you, Daniel?”

Dan pats Phil’s head with the air of an adult consoling a very small child. “It's fine, Philip,” he says. “I'm afraid you were just taken in by the bucketloads of my irresistible charm, as everyone else is.” He's barely holding in his giggles at this point.

Phil reaches up to swat at Dan again, but he misses horribly and ends up nearly whacking a terrarium off its base. The look of horror on Phil's face is too much to handle, and Dan splutters, then lets the swell of laughter carry him away. Pretty soon Phil joins him too, and then they're both just laughing like idiots at the counter.

(he's fairly sure that people are staring.)

(oddly enough he's also fairly sure that he doesn't care.)

 

***

 

Somehow or other, Dan becomes part of their friend group from then on.

He's not sure how it happens - one day they all went to Tyler’s to play Mario Kart, and then he just. Settled in. He's part of their weekly routines now, without question - a Netflix at Phil’s every Friday, Mario Kart on weekends, and somehow they even establish a Game Night at Dan’s room on Thursdays, where they play whatever board game they fancy and sometimes stay over for the night, even. It's a bit of a squash, but they cover the floor with the cushions Phil brings over and it's fine.

It all happens so fast, but also so naturally, like Dan had belonged there all along. He's surprised at how well he fits into the group, and he's also very very happy.

Positively effervescent, even.

It's a feeling Dan hasn't really experienced a lot throughout his life, and now he finds himself tasting that unfamiliar sweetness on his tongue whenever he spends time with the lot of them. He likes it, a lot. And surprise, surprise: he's actually doing not too bad at Uni, either. He's actually closer to success than he ever thought he would be.

Then of course, one day, it all goes to shit.

(he blames himself for not seeing it coming until it was too late.)

 

***

 

His mum calls, just like she always does, on Thursday. He picks up the phone on the third ring.

The moment he hears her voice, he knows something's wrong.

“Daniel, lately we've heard some -” here she coughs, “things about you from your brother. I think you know what I'm talking about. Is it true?”

Dan feels his heart plummet down to his stomach. His mouth goes dry.

(he's dreaming, isn't he?)

(this can't be happening.)

When he doesn't reply, his mother sighs. “I expected better of you, Daniel. This is - this is unacceptable and absolutely horrible, and your father and I will not tolerate it. I hope you know that you're making a mistake.”

Dan can't breathe. Dan can't move at all.

(this can't be true. no please no it's a nightmare someone wake him up please it's not true it's not - )

His mother's voice goes soft. “It's not too late to turn back now, Daniel. I'm sure you know what we think of this - it's unnatural, and _wrong._ ” Her voice drips with disgust on the last word. “We don't want you to become like that, like one of those. Take your time to think about it, okay? Tell us when you change your mind.”

Click. The phone goes dead, and he lets it fall onto the floor.

(silence.)

Dan's head is a swirling mess. He doesn't know what to feel, or what to think. Something inside him has broken, and he's not sure if it'll ever be put back together again.

The bubble of happiness he's been living in for the past two months has popped, and now he finds himself alone in the middle of a stormy ocean, tossed and flung about like a limp rag doll with no control of where he's going. Because how could Dan ever think that he was doing okay? How could Dan ever even consider the possibility that his parents might be proud of him? How could Dan have gotten so carried away with that floating wisp of happiness that he had forgotten what he is?

Because deep down, no matter how he tries to cover it up, Dan Howell is a worthless mess that doesn't deserve either friendship or happiness, and he'd been stupid to let himself forget it.

 

***

 

_Knock._

It takes a moment for Dan to remember that it's game night tonight, and Phil mentioned that he would come by early. Sitting up with a jerk, he hastily swipes at his face with the back of his hand. When he deems himself presentable, he gets up and opens the door.

“Hey, I brought crisps -”

Phil’s bright grin fades off halfway through.

“Dan? Dan, are you okay?”

The genuine concern and worry that radiates in waves off Phil is almost too much to handle. He's just a friend that Dan met barely two month ago, and yet…

Dan’s bottom lip wobbles, then he gives up trying to hold it in. The tears fall.

“Dan!”

Phil drops the bag of crisps on the floor and closes the door behind him, then steps forward and pulls Dan into a hug. Dan closes his eyes and collapses into him, because this is Phil, and Phil is warm and soft and sturdy, and that's really all Dan can ask for right now.

They stand there for a while like that, hugging. It is immensely comforting.

Dan can vaguely feel Phil’s hand rubbing circles on his back, but the touch is hazy, as if Dan is miles away in some other place. He grasps for some semblance of control, but they all escape, and in the end he is powerless to stop the sobs that rack through his entire body. Dan cries without stopping, without noise, and blindly he clutches at the edges of Phil's shirt, gripping until his knuckles go white. The cloth is rough under his fingertips, and it takes this observation for Dan to realise that Phil is here, and real, and _watching Dan cry._

It's with a shock of embarrassment that he pulls away, apology on his lips, but he doesn't get very far before Phil pulls him back into the hug. Dan stills for a moment, then the tears escape again.

He's shuddering as Phil holds him. It's almost cathartic, the way he lets the tears out - it feels as if he's been holding them in for so long, and once they escape there's no hope of closing the floodgates again. Through the haze, he hears Phil whisper things like “Shh, it's okay” and “Deep breath in, deep breath out” and “You're doing great, you're fine”, and Dan clings onto his words like they're his lifeline, like they're the only thing keeping him grounded.

(they are.)

Dan doesn't know how long they stand there for, but eventually the sobs die down, and his breathing evens out. Phil gives him one last pat, and when he pulls away Dan feels the loss of warmth immediately.

“Dan? Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Phil's voice is softer than he's ever heard it. The way he speaks makes Dan think of someone handling a fragile glass vase, and for a moment Dan wonders what it would be like to open up like he never had before, to tell his friends about his…issues. Then he kicks away the notion as soon as it comes, because everyone's got their own problems, and he doesn't want to burden someone else with his own.

And besides, how does he tell someone that he's broken inside?

Dan shakes his head mutely, avoiding Phil’s eyes.

“Okay.” The sigh is almost inaudible, but Dan hears it anyway. It makes his heart sink, because he doesn't think he can handle having another person disappointed in him again, especially not _Phil_. He's just about to spin some random excuse about the stress of Uni life when he hears Phil say,

“It's okay, you don't have to tell me. Don't force yourself to. Really, it's okay, I get it,” and Dan looks up to see clear blue eyes staring back at him, sincere and understanding.

And somehow the knot in Dan's chest releases a little, just a smidge. He doesn't know what to say, or what to do, so he just holds eye contact with Phil for a while longer, hoping that he can see that Dan is truly grateful for him.

Phil smiles at him then, and Dan finds himself smiling a little back.

 

***

 

Game night proceeds. No one mentions anything if Dan is a little quieter than usual. Phil certainly doesn't say anything about the Crying Episode, though Dan does catch a few concerned glances darted his way. He responds with surreptitious nods or smiles, and Phil always looks away first with a smile tugging at his mouth.

And when they end up sitting next to each other during the second round of Monopoly and Dan leans into Phil a tiny bit more than he should have, well, no one says anything about it.

 

***

 

Life seems to go on normally after that, except Dan's parents don't call, and his nights are spent wondering and thinking and staring at the stars.

Because, Dan realises, there's quite a lot to think about. All his life he's been trying to please people around him, trying to achieve the definition of success, but really, what's the point? For one thing, he's starting to realise that maybe “success”, which in this case is getting a law degree and becoming a lawyer, won't really make him happy at all, because every time he looks at a law book he has to resist the urge to hurl it out of his window. Maybe it's because of the things he's subconsciously associated with law, or maybe it's just his plain hatred of law that he's taken so long to realise.

Which makes Dan wonder. If he's so sure that this won't make him happy, then what will?

That's easy. Teasing Phil about his clumsiness, helping Louise with her photography projects, making innuendos with Tyler, spending time with his friends and doing nothing else.

But Dan knows that it's not the answer the world wants him to give. And some days he just feels so so tired.

(because what's the point, really, if everything will be forgotten a million years from now? what's the point, if one day everything will disintegrate into dust with no trace left behind? what's the point if his existence in this world is simply a blink of an eye in the timeline of the universe, and the earth will keep on spinning when he's gone?)

Dan doesn't know, and he spends his nights staring at the stars.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dan starts to fall. also, Xmas hols

Autumn fades away, and winter arrives. The boughs of the trees hang heavy with brilliant white, and the world seems to glitter under the sunlight. Dan finds that the only way to stop those thoughts from coming to him in the day is to hang out with his friends, and so he spends more time with Phil, Tyler and Louise than ever.

It's only the end of November, but the cafe already serves peppermint lattes and gingerbread mochas, and mini Christmas trees and candy canes adorn the windows. Dan bursts out laughing when he sees Phil wearing a lopsided Santa hat, singing Jingle Bells as he stirs a drink behind the counter. It's ridiculously funny, and Tyler agrees. Louise, however, tells them to “stop bullying Phil!” then tells Phil that “you look really cute, it suits you!”

(which. actually.)

“Thank you, Louise, you're the only nice person here,” Phil says, then grins. “Learn to embrace your inner Santa, Dan.” 

“Santa,” says Tyler, then splutters. “Santa Claus - oh god - _Danta Claus_ \- ”

“Oh my god,” says Dan, raising his voice above the laughter. “Oh my god - Tyler - I am literally disowning you as a friend - that was - absolutely horrible - get out of my life right now - ” 

They head to the end of the queue nearly falling over one another. After much discussion they all get peppermint lattes, and Dan grins when he sees that Phil drew a smiley face in the foam of his latte. He feels oddly warm for some reason, then he glances at the others’ mugs and realises that everyone got a smiley face from Phil.

Of course. 

(he feels kind of stupid.)

They find a corner booth and sip at their mugs, waiting for Phil to join them. The drink is amazing, as usual, and it sends a trail of blazing warmth down into Dan's belly. He wraps his hands around his mug and gazes out into the white winter wonderland, and for a few moments no one says anything. There's no need to. 

Comfortable silence drapes itself over the group like a heavy blanket. When Phil joins them with his Santa hat still on and a mug in his hand, he seems to sense the atmosphere, and so doesn't say anything when he sits down. But Tyler ruins it all, of course - he takes one look at Phil’s hat and lets out a snort, and just like that the moment of serenity is gone, a thing of the past. Dan doesn't really mind, though, because it is immediately replaced with warm laughter. In fact, he thinks idly, there's no other place he'd rather be right now, sappy as it may seem.

Conversation flows freely after that, but Dan feels content to just listen, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He listens to Tyler enthuse about the weather, listens to Louise talk excitedly about the upcoming Christmas holidays, and listens to Phil talk about the time he got a scar above his lip. 

(Phil puts his tongue between his teeth when he grins and laughs.)

(it is. weirdly endearing.)

“Dan?” 

It takes a moment for him to respond. “Yeah?” 

“We were just asking if you had anything on for tonight,” says Tyler, brow slightly furrowed. “You okay, dude? You looked like you were spacing out there.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry. Just thinking about stuff.” He takes one last sip of the still-warm drink. “No, I'm free. Why?” 

“Great!” Louise says. “We were just saying, maybe we could go for a movie tonight? We have Uni student discounts for tickets. Why not use them?”

(Phil’s eyes are really blue. like, bluer than the sky.)

Dan blinks.

“Dan?”

“Huh? Oh-oh yeah, sure. I haven't seen a movie in ages,” he says, then lifts the mug to his lips in an attempt to mask the heat flooding across his cheeks, only to find that it's empty. He sets down the mug awkwardly, well aware of the three pairs of eyes on him.

What was he doing?

“You sure you're okay, Dan?” Louise asks, a touch of concern in her voice.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I - I was just, y’know.” He gestures with his hands. “Stuff.” 

He doesn't look at Phil for the rest of the time they spend in the cafe.

 

***

 

They step out into the snow when Phil’s shift ends. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting warm rays of gold over everything and making their shadows stretch out far beyond their feet as they walk. Dan’s breath mists like a cloud in front of his face, and he tucks his hands deeper into his coat pockets. The snow crunches underneath his shoes.

Then, splat. Something hits the back of his neck, and Dan freezes.

It leaves a trail of ice-cold as it slides down the inside of his coat, but Dan chooses not to react - he can practically hear the bubbling anticipation behind him. Instead, he waits two beats before he turns around, biting the inside of his cheek as he does. 

Tyler stands behind him with his hand raised in the air, sheepish grin on his face.

“Snowball fight?” He flashes another smile innocently.

Dan feels a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, it's _on._

Dan scoops up a lump of snow before anyone moves and lobs it at Tyler in one swift motion. For a moment, the world slows down - Tyler’s eyes widen comically as he opens his mouth to let out a squeal, and four pairs of eyes follow the trajectory of the snowball’s flight - then the snow hits Tyler square in the face, knocking his glasses askew. 

“Oh yeah,” says Dan, bubble of laughter rising up in his chest as Tyler splutters. “You deserved that, you - ”

And another snowball hits his back, effectively cutting him off. He turns around in wide-eyed shock only to find Phil standing there, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, tongue between his teeth. He backs away when Dan advances menacingly, holding up his hands in surrender even as he giggles.

“Please spare me,” says Phil at the same time Dan says, “You fool,” and smashes a snowball into Phil’s face.

From then on everything just devolves into a flurry of snowballs and laughter and yes, battle cries. It's a silent group decision to throw their (nonexistent) maturity and dignity out of the window. Dan is well aware of how mad they will look like on the outside, but he finds that he doesn't really care right now, fuelled by a raging competitiveness and a snow-induced high. 

“Fly, my babies! Be free!” Phil sings in a horrible falsetto as he lobs snowballs left and right. The singing (if Dan can even call it that) changes into a shriek when Louise comes after him with a manic grin on her face.

“I AM QUEEN TYLER AND NO ONE WILL DEFEAT ME,” Tyler declares as he climbs onto a pile of rocks, then wobbles, then topples face-first into a pile of snow. Dan can't help it - he bursts out laughing, and earns a snowball to the face for it. He looks up to find Phil smirking at him from behind a tree, ears red-tipped from the cold. 

Well, Dan has ammunition, and he is ready.

Without a moment’s hesitation he gathers up his armful of prepared snowballs and starts chasing after Phil, who lets out an extremely satisfying squeal before running away. Dan's laughing even as he screams, “Die, you unworthy scum,” at Phil's back, pelting snowballs as he goes. When he manages to catch up with Phil he pushes him to the ground, but Phil, the bastard, grabs at his collar and drags him down so Dan gets a mouthful of snow too. They lie collapsed in the snow, breathless and laughing until Dan’s stomach starts to ache. He glances over at Phil and beams, and Phil’s responding grin is almost blinding.

(his cheeks are flushed. there are snowflakes in his hair.)

(they are lying very close.)

Dan’s breath catches in his throat. He looks away. 

It's at that moment that, with no warning at all, Tyler pops up from behind a bush with what Phil would call an evil cackle. Dan lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched scream and leaps to his feet, dragging Phil along without a second thought. The barrage of snowballs from Tyler seems to be never ending, but even so Dan is laughing as he runs. 

And all of a sudden Dan feels ten again, running around and playing in the snow with his friends, the sun dipping below the horizon. The wind is blowing through his hair, and the bubble of happiness within him is expanding with every step he takes, filling him up to the brim and pushing the worries away.

And cheesy as it may seem, Dan thinks that he would quite like to hold on to this moment, just this moment, and cradle it forever and ever.

 

***

 

As the days pass, Christmas inches nearer. 

The four of them are holed up in Tyler's flat one snowy evening, watching a movie and enjoying the warmth that crackles from the fireplace. Dan’s lost track of the movie storyline a good half hour ago; he watches the snowflakes twirl and dance outside the window instead. 

_Beautiful,_ he thinks hazily.

They're all cosied up together on a sofa that's definitely meant for less than four people, but Dan doesn't mind, not really, not when he can feel the warmth from Phil next to him seeping into his bones. He finds himself instinctively leaning into Phil a little more than he usually would, soaking up the warmth Phil radiates, breathing in the scent of coffee and warm sunlight. Phil leans back without hesitation, and Dan lets out a small, contented sigh and snuggles closer.

Yes, _snuggles_ \- there's no other word for what he's doing right now, and somewhere in the midst of the fog in Dan's brain rises a warning that this - whatever it is - seems to have crossed the line of being platonic. But then the voice is quickly obscured by the mist, and Dan can't be arsed to dig it back up again.

(Phil’s eyes are sleepy-soft and crinkled around the corners.)

(his eyelids flutter as he yawns.)

 _Beautiful,_ Dan thinks again, then he closes his eyes and lets the lure of sleep pull him under.

 

***

 

Dan wakes up disoriented and with a crick in his neck.

The surroundings are vaguely familiar, but the cobwebs of sleep still linger in his mind, so it takes Dan a moment to realise where he is. He's in Tyler's flat, lying on several cushions on the floor. Tyler and Louise lie a distance away, still asleep, and there's a pair of warm arms from behind wrapped around his waist.

Dan turns to see an unconscious Phil nuzzling into his neck.

_What,_ he thinks. Then, _what the hell?_

Then, out of nowhere, _this feels kind of nice._

The thought alone is enough to make Dan want to get up and bolt out of the door, but then Phil makes a whiny sort of noise in his sleep and pulls him closer. And Dan is helpless to resist, powerless really, because Phil is looking all sleep-rumpled and soft and ridiculously adorable in the early morning sunlight and _fuck._

Dan can't do this. 

He has to fight hard to squash down the all-too-familiar feeling that's bubbling up in his chest, along with the aching urge to stay in Phil's embrace. Carefully, gently, he extracts himself from Phil’s arms, not missing the way Phil whines again and reaches out for Dan, but grasps at empty air instead. He steps over the cushions to the sofa across the room, then collapses onto it face-up. 

_What,_ he thinks again, _was that?_

His gaze drifts to the ceiling and stays there. The cracks across the surface make a surprisingly familiar pattern, and he finds himself counting them without thinking. 

One, two, three, and he loses track as always. 

The springs of the sofa dig uncomfortably into his back, taunting him. He shifts, then turns and looks at the pink-and-orange-streaked sky outside the window. The sun has barely risen, and Dan thinks that perhaps it's the earliest in the morning he's woken up since - since he was fifteen, maybe. He feels odd and slightly foggy, as if his body's not used to being awake so early in the day. 

Oh, yes. That's it. That's definitely it. 

It's with a sort of wild desperation that he pounces onto this reason and latches onto it tight: yes, no wonder he was feeling weird stuff that he shouldn't be feeling - his brain is probably still sleep-addled, so of course he was unable to think clearly. It's natural, after all, to occasionally have thoughts or feelings that don't make sense and never will, especially when he just woke up. 

It's normal. It's fine. 

It doesn't mean anything. 

(not if he doesn't want it to.) 

Dan breathes a sigh of relief and pulls out his phone, then proceeds to scroll through tumblr until the rest of them stir, which is about half an hour later. The sun is already high up in the sky by then, and Dan is unable to resist teasing them about waking up late. Tyler flips him off and grumbles about how rude the youths of today are, Louise swats at him and says something about her ‘needing beauty sleep’, and Phil just rolls his eyes and tells Dan that he's in no place to say anything, not when Phil knows for a fact that Dan would wake up past noon if he could. 

Dan splutters with indignation, but he can't really deny it, so he settles for kicking at Phil, who kicks back almost immediately. 

It's the kind of easy, comfortable interaction that Dan lives for, and he finds the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. 

(he ignores the fleeting way his stomach swoops when Phil grins back, warm and blinding.) 

*** 

Dan’s so caught up in lectures and university life and having fun with Phil and Tyler and Louise that he doesn't notice that the Christmas holidays are arriving until they're practically on top of him. 

In retrospect, he really should have. 

It hits him like a bolt of lightning one day when they're all in the coffee shop, drinking Phil’s toffee nut lattes and laughing about a certain professor of Tyler's. 

“I swear, he acts like he's drunk most of the time. He hits on all the girls in our class in broad daylight, and one time he even tried to hit on me.” Tyler puts an affronted hand on his chest. “ _Me!_ ” 

“Well, what did you tell him?” Louise asks, tone teasing. 

“To shove off.” Tyler takes a sip of his drink, then lets out a gusty sigh. “Man, I can't wait for - what is it, two more weeks? Then I won't have to see his face for another two weeks.” 

“Wait for what?” Dan asks, confused. 

“Winter break, of course,” Phil replies. “Are you all going home to celebrate?” 

Dan’s eyes widen, and he sets his mug down abruptly with a clink. 

_Shit._

He sits there numbly with his hands wrapped around his mug as the rest of them chatter about their holiday plans. Louise’s going down south to Northampton to visit her family, and Phil is going up to Lancashire to do the same. Tyler's flying over to New York to visit his grandparents, and go for a mini vacation with his family as well. 

And Dan’s…well, Dan has no place to go. 

(he can't go home, he can't he can't he can't.) 

“What about you, Dan?” Phil asks, slight Northern accent lilting his voice. He always goes a little Northern whenever he talks about his home and family, Dan knows. 

(he also knows that Phil’s family is very different from his, if the stories Phil share are anything to go by.) 

“I - uh,” Dan takes a sip of the latte to stall, and finds himself sighing into the warmth, “I - I'm not particularly sure, actually.” 

He regrets it the moment the words slip out of his mouth. His friends’ gazes turn from surprise to confusion to concern, and then they all exchange glances, as if Dan isn't sitting right there in front of them. 

He barely bites back a snarky “I can see you, you know”. 

“Not going back to visit your family, mate?” Tyler finally asks, in a tone far too casual to actually be casual. Dan can hear the apprehension underneath his words. 

It suddenly strikes Dan that if he wanted to, well, _share_ about his issues, now would be the perfect time. These are people who care for him genuinely, and he knows without a doubt that they wouldn't judge him for it - fucking hell, Tyler himself is so very openly gay. He knows that his friends would be nothing but incredibly supportive and understanding and sweet, maybe even indignant on his behalf. 

“I - ” 

And he very nearly says it; he very nearly spills everything out - the phone call, the realisation, the sort of parents he grew up with, his messed-up childhood, the way his home used to feel like nothing more than an empty shell of a house, even before this whole fiasco - 

“I - ” he says, then he stops. 

And just like that the moment is gone, vanished into mist by that split-second of hesitation. He finds himself staring into the whirls of whipped cream in his mug, gripping it until his knuckles are white as the snow outside. 

He can't say it. He can't tell them. 

Because Dan Howell is a great big fucking coward, and he thinks that there's probably never been a time where he hated himself more. 

“Dan?” Phil prompts, tone gentle. It reminds Dan of that game night where he made a mess all over Phil’s shirt with his tears and whatnot. 

“Just - stuff. Maybe I'll stay at Uni to study - I'm not doing particularly well in law, lately. I'll need the extra study time if I'm going to catch up.” He knows that it's blatantly obvious that he's bluffing. The three pairs of eyes staring at him aren't convinced one little bit, and Dan wonders if there's anything he could say that would sound remotely believable. 

(probably not.) 

“Look, I - I'm sorry, but - just, there's some…stuff going on, stuff that I'd rather not talk about. Is it - is it okay with you guys?” 

He holds his breath. No one says anything for a while. 

Louise is the one to break the silence. “Of course, Dan,” she says, laying a hand on his shoulder, and there's a certain tenderness to her voice that Dan doesn't think he's heard before. He looks up to see Phil and Tyler both nodding very empathically, and suddenly there's a lump in his throat that wasn't there before. 

He thinks he would kind of like to curl up in a ball and cry, right now. 

Or hug them. 

Or both. 

He just utters a soft “thank you” instead, and it's not nearly enough, but it's all he can do. 

*** 

It's three days before the hols when he receives a text from his father. Dan's not talked to him since the beginning of term; he's always talked to his mum. 

His thumb hovers over the text, hesitant. Then, with a sudden lurch of courage, he opens it up. 

_From: Dad_

_Don't bother coming home unless you're no longer a faggot_

He reads the text, once, twice. He thinks of the goodbye just two months ago, the hug, the words of encouragement. Then he hurls the phone at the floor, ignoring the way it makes a sickening crack, and buries his face in his pillow. 

Well, that's settled, then. 

He's lucky the university stays open to students throughout the winter break. 

*** 

The holidays drag by, excruciatingly slowly. Dan’s pretty sure the gods of time and space are just fucking with him at this point. 

He spends his days holed up in his room, trying and failing to study. The campus is quiet like Dan's never heard before - the lack of students and professors bustling about makes it seem empty and hollow, which is a sharp contrast from the buzzing festive spirit just a few days ago. The silence permeates every corner, and Dan tries to convince himself that it's a good thing, because that means he'll be able to focus better. 

(he doesn't.) 

He did try going to the coffee shop a few times, but it just wasn't the same without Phil and the others. He thinks he had probably gotten so used to immediately spotting Phil behind the counter whenever he entered, that it feels incredibly weird, not to mention _wrong_ , to see a purple-haired girl there instead. 

So he just doesn't go at all. 

The nights are worse. The room feels smaller than it's ever had before, and it's hard to breathe sometimes. He's taken to spending his nights just ambling around the streets of Manchester, breathing in the cold night air, admiring the pub lights but never daring to go in. It's better than staying in his silent room anyhow, and oftentimes he's found himself wandering until the sky lightened and the sun rose. 

(it's okay, he doesn't think he would have been able to sleep anyway.) 

When Christmas arrives, the streets are uncharacteristically empty - Dan thinks that perhaps everyone's in their homes with their families. The thought pulls a little at his heartstrings, and then he decides that he can't stay outside anymore, so he quickens his footsteps in the direction of campus. 

He's greeted by an all-too-familiar silence and a mess of books and papers when he pushes open the door. Sighing to himself, he shrugs off his coat and throws it atop his law books - he can't be arsed to hang it up in the wardrobe, and he'll need it tomorrow anyway. He collapses onto his bed, long limbs hanging off the edge, and pulls out his phone. 

Three unread messages from Phil, Tyler and Louise pop up. Dan doesn't open them. They're all dated a little after yesterday midnight, or perhaps he should say the beginning of today. He knows what they all say - Merry Christmas, Dan!!!, accompanied with various festive emojis, knowing Phil, and perhaps a drunk typo or two, knowing Tyler. He opens up tumblr instead, and for a while he's able to immerse himself in the world of funny GIFs, relatable text posts and extremely weird late-night thoughts. They provide an extra wall of defence from certain emotions and thoughts that he'd rather not have. 

(he's not going to cry on Christmas Day, he's not.) 

It's past three am when he finally switches off his phone and gets properly into bed. Despite the warmth from his quilt and the heater, it's still pretty darn cold, and he finds himself shivering. 

Outside the window, the stars look particularly bright, and he thinks of fairy lights strung in between the branches of a tree. 

(he wonders if anyone else out there is staring at the same stars too.) 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dan is happy, and also slightly breathless.

The students start streaming in on the first evening of the year, and by the time morning arrives the next day, the campus is once again filled with the familiar hum of people bustling about. When 2pm rolls by, Dan throws down his books and practically runs to the coffee shop.

Phil has to be there, his shift just started, and he's never late.

(pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.)

He nearly trips over a pile of snow-turned-slush in his haste to reach. The bell tinkles as usual when he pushes open the door, and he catches sight of another pun:

_What's an ig?_

_A snow house without a loo! :)_

It's enough to make him chuckle, a quiet huff that's easily drowned out by the buzz of chatter. The coffee shop is unusually crowded for a Monday, but even so Dan spots Phil behind the counter almost immediately. He's evidently caught up in the rush, and as Dan watches, he nearly trips over himself trying to get to the coffee machine, then knocks his hip against the counter and manages to spill a cup of milk, all in the space of a few seconds.

It's ridiculous. Phil's ridiculous, and Dan finds that he's grinning like crazy. There's an odd sort of warmth blooming in his chest, one that leaves him breathless and excited and a little tingly all over.

(Phil's such an idiot.)

(is it weird that all that thought does is make him smile more?)

It takes a few moments and another bell tinkle for Dan to realise that he probably looks like a lunatic, standing there at the entrance and grinning like a fucking idiot, so he tries to school his expression into something more neutral as he joins the queue. It doesn't work, and he earns a bemused look from the cashier.

(he can't find it in himself to care.)

“One dark mocha, please,” he says instead, pulling out his wallet and handing over the money.

“Name?”

“Dan,” he says distractedly, flicking a glance at the kitchen. Phil’s still rushing about, hair mussed like he's been running a hand through it repeatedly. Dan hides a chuckle in his sleeve. 

He grabs his drink, then sits at a corner booth waiting for the crowd to clear out so he can talk to Phil without interruptions. A while later, when he sees Phil start to untie his apron, he heads over to his usual (now empty) seat at the counter.

“Hey,” Dan says, setting his mug down with a clink. The oversized grin leaps onto his face again, and he lets it.

Phil turns around, and Dan revels in the transformation: it's as if Phil is a light bulb that has just been switched on, and his face goes from tired and slightly frazzled to bright and beaming in a split second. The odd warmth returns, and Dan finds himself rendered speechless, only able to stand there and grin back stupidly.

“Dan! How was winter - ” Phil says, then stops abruptly, smile fading. The unspoken word _break_ hangs in the air, and he bites down on his lip.

Dan recognises that it's code for _Phil knows he's fucked up and doesn't know what to do_ , so he doesn't let the smile drop from his face, even as his stomach plummets a little. 

“Pretty great,” he says as he sits down, which could not be further from the truth, but it's worth it when Phil visibly relaxes, and the easy grin returns. “I really got some studying done, y’know?”

“Yeah, that's great,” Phil says, sounding genuinely happy for him, and Dan feels his heart swell a little more. He takes a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.

“So,” he says, then pauses and flounders a little. There're so many things running through his head right now, so many things he wants to say - he wants to tell Phil about the creepy Santa doll that just appeared on the mantelpiece outside his door one day, about the Shiba Inu he saw at the park yesterday, about how beautiful Manchester is at night. He wants to see how Phil reacts to each anecdote he has to offer, see if Phil laughs or cringes or gets excited.

(he wants to tell Phil _everything_.)

But he has absolutely no idea where to start, so he settles for, “Busy day today?”

Then _he_ cringes, because it's such a stupid thing to say. But Phil just nods and offers a slightly frayed smile. “Yeah. It's been a long time since we've had so many customers - I'm fairly sure I knocked over about a dozen containers.”

Dan lets out a laugh. “I saw you! I mean - Phil, how are you a barista? You're pretty much the clumsiest person on earth.” 

“I know!” Phil throws up his hands, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I have no idea. I'm not sure how I even keep this job, to be honest. Maybe they put up with me ‘cause it gives them a laugh.” There's something uncertain underneath the humour of his words, something that Dan doesn't think he's heard before.

He sits up, furrows his brows. “Phil, that's not true,” he says. “Your drinks are _amazing_ , anyone ever told you that? You're really good at your job.” His words are serious now, the joking edge gone. 

Phil laughs a little, cheeks reddening. “It's probably the company recipe, Dan. We all follow it. The stuff I make is no different from anyone else's here - ”

“It is!” 

Dan finds himself gripped with the sudden urge to make Phil understand that - that…he's not sure what, but he wants Phil to _know._

“Look, it's not just the drink itself, it's the - it's the feeling you get when you drink it, you know, all warm and tingly inside! It's - it's sort of like _home_ , and I've never gotten that feeling before when I drank anything else, never, and it's only your drinks that make me feel that way, like I'm being hugged by someone I love, or like I'm being wrapped with warm blankets on a cold night. It's absolutely amazing, and wonderful, and I'm not sure what is it that you do, but no other - nothing else can compare. Do you understand?”

He stops, momentarily out of breath. He's been rambling, and he knows it, but he's too worked up to care.

Can't Phil _see_?

When he looks over, Phil's staring at him, blue eyes wide. His cheeks are flushed, and his mouth is slightly open. 

For a few moments, no one says anything. Dan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, ignoring the way his ears are burning.

Phil breaks the silence first. “Um. Thank you, I guess.” 

(He sounds as breathless as Dan was a few seconds ago.)

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before? So...thank you.”

Dan shrugs a little. “It's fine.” Then, to dispel the lingering awkwardness, he adds with a grin, “You spork.” 

Phil grins back, wide and happy with his tongue between his teeth.

(Dan tried not to stare, he really did.)

Conversation proceeds smoothly from then on, like it always does. They go from talking about winter break to types of Christmas trees and types of dogs they would like to have, then their opinions on sunflowers. Everything is so so absurd and yet so so perfect, and Dan thinks that his face is probably going to be permanently stuck in this smile forever.

(he's never been so glad that Tyler and Louise aren't here.)

(it's just...he's missed the way Phil smiles at him when they're alone.)

“What's your favourite season?”

“Spring,” says Phil decidedly. “It's when the cold melts away and everything starts to bloom, y’know? It's the season with the most flowers and animals.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, “but autumn is the perfect temperature, don't you think? Not too cold and not too warm. Plus autumn means dry crunchy leaves and Halloween and pumpkin spice lattes - what's not to love?”

(he doesn't say that autumn was also when he had first met Phil.)

Phil hums. “Autumn’s probably second for me. Summer, though, that's the worst.” He makes a face.

Dan makes one right back. “Definitely.”

When Dan’s mug is emptied, Phil immediately turns around and makes another drink, then pushes the steaming mug over without saying anything. When Dan looks at him with a question in his eyes, Phil just shrugs a little helplessly.

“For you. Since - since you like my drinks so much,” he says, pushing the mug closer to Dan. He smiles, crooked and slightly nervous, then pulls his lip under his teeth. 

Dan opens his mouth, then shuts it. He swallows. 

Somehow, the words that usually come so easily to him are nowhere to be found.

There's an emotion washing over him right now, something filling him up to the brim and swallowing up all other thoughts, leaving behind only the image of the anxious smile on Phil’s face. Dan doesn't know what the something is - (affection? fondness? more?) - all he knows is that this feeling, whatever it is, has quite literally taken his breath away.

(Phil takes his breath away.)

After a few seconds, Dan nods, then takes a sip. It tastes like hazelnuts and coffee and peppermint, and the late winter sunlight that slants through the windows of the coffee shop.

Phil’s eyes blink at him, wide and hopeful.

Dan finds himself smiling again, completely involuntarily.

“It's perfect,” he finally says, but it doesn't feel like a good enough word, so he tries out another. “It's heavenly. Thank you.”

Phil's returning grin is so bright it's practically blinding, and Dan is helpless to do anything but smile back.

(Phil looks ridiculously happy.)

(just that. happy.)

(he wants Phil to look like that every day.)

 

***

 

Dan falls back into weekly routines with Tyler, Louise and Phil as easily as ever - it's almost as if they never left. They bicker and tease each other over coffee and Mario Kart, and Dan’s days are filled with laughter and warmth.

He wonders how he's ever survived without them.

They have a study session at Tyler's flat one late afternoon, as suggested by Louise, or “Mum”, as Tyler cheerfully dubs. The nickname fits and sticks, and they all howl at Louise's mock-offended expression whenever it comes up.

It's not actually a bad idea, though - they each have their own work to do, and as university picks up speed, it's getting harder to find time to study. So Dan brings his laptop and law assignment, Louise brings her photography project, Phil brings his half-written lit paper, and Tyler studies for his upcoming psychology test. The flat is small, but cosy and blessedly quiet. 

They settle down on the numerous cushions scattered on the floor and start working, cups of tea at their sides. Sunlight filters in through the windows of the flat, and dust particles drift lazily in the air. The shadow of a bird’s wing flutters by, and Dan follows the split-second movement with his eyes. Outside, he can vaguely hear the faint buzz of university students walking around.

It takes about half an hour for the words on the screen in front of him start to blur, and he lifts a hand to rub at his eyes.

A few moments later, Tyler lets out a huge yawn. Dan tries to not let the lethargy get to him, and fails.

Then a minute later, Louise yawns too, stretching her arms behind her head.

Phil sets down his pen with a click, then runs a hand through his hair.

They all look at each other for a few seconds. 

“All right,” Tyler announces. He rolls over on his back, shifting the cushions underneath. “I don't know about you, but I bloody well can't study right now. I'm blaming it on all of you.”

Phil groans, then covers his face with his assignment. “Me too.”

Dan counts, one beat, two, before he speaks. “Let's just do something else.”

“Do what?”

“Netflix, maybe?”

So they all end up squeezed in front of the TV, a bowl of microwaved popcorn between them. At the side, papers and books lay forgotten, and Dan is happy to leave them there.

“Dead Silence,” Tyler reads in an ominous voice, then waves the remote at the screen, which features a doll-like face holding a finger to its lips. “Let's watch that!”

Phil gulps. Under the evening light, Dan sees his face go just a shade paler.

“‘A widower returns to his hometown to search for answers to his wife's murder, which may be linked to the ghost of a murdered ventriloquist.’” Louise reads, eyes wide. “Sounds cool! Yeah, let's watch this.” 

“Y'all fine?” Tyler asks, palpable excitement in his voice. 

“Yup,” Dan says, flicking a glance at Phil, who nods, then swallows again.

Tyler whoops and rushes off to switch off the lights and draw all the curtains, to “set the mood”, he declares. Louise gets up to go to the toilet, and Dan takes the chance to nudge Phil.

“You scared?”

“N-no,” says Phil, but the break in his voice gives him away. He's biting his lip again, worrying it between his teeth. Dan is seized by the overwhelming urge to reassure him, to smooth out that terrified look with his fingertips.

He looks down on his lap, then up at Phil, and the words are out before he can stop them. 

“You don't have to be scared, you know. I'm here.” 

Almost instantly after the words leave his mouth, Dan mentally kicks himself. 

(why, oh _why_ did he say that?)

(of all the things he could have - )

(for fuck’s _sake_.)

He risks a glance at Phil, and catches a glimpse of that same expression Phil wore when Dan first told him how good his coffee was - eyes a little wide, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open. 

Dan swallows once, twice, a flush of his own rising high on his cheeks. He can feel Phil's eyes on him as he traces the pattern of the cushion with his fingertips.

(say something say something say something _please_ )

The silence drags on for a beat longer, and just when Dan starts to wonder if he should just tape his mouth up from now on, Tyler comes bounding back. 

“Sufficiently spooky, huh?” 

Dan vaguely notes the loss of light in the flat, except from the TV screen. “Yeah, pretty good,” he says. “Immersion, right?”

“Yeah…” Tyler sounds uncertain, and when Dan looks up, Tyler's eyes are flicking between him and Phil. “You guys okay?”

“Why wouldn't we be?” Phil says. His arm brushes against Dan’s.

Louise comes back, then, squealing about the spine-chilling atmosphere, and Tyler's attention is diverted momentarily. It's enough time for Phil to find Dan's hand and give it a squeeze. 

Dan freezes, then looks at Phil, who mouths, “Thanks.”

Dan feels impossibly warm all of a sudden. Phil's hand is cool and heavy in his.

(he's pretty sure his own palm is sweaty.)

(it is, isn't it?)

(why isn't Phil letting go?)

When the movie starts, Phil moves his hand away to grab some popcorn, and Dan breathes a little easier. He shakes away all thoughts he shouldn't have and focuses on the screen instead.

The movie’s pretty good, and deliciously creepy - it's not long before all of them are clutching cushions to their faces and peeking over the top like a bunch of kids watching their first horror movie. 

“Eeep,” Tyler says when the movie gets to a particularly creepy point. He grabs at Dan’s shirt, and Dan nearly falls over. He clutches at Phil’s elbow to stay upright, and Phil lets out a whimper. Louise pats Phil on the arm absentmindedly, eyes glued to the screen. 

They stay like that for a while, completely frozen. Dan can barely think or feel anything, save for Phil's hand on his shoulder. 

He holds his breath.

And then the jumpscare comes.

“AHHH!” 

Four shrieks mingle into a ear-splitting one, drowning out the sounds of the TV. They jump up almost in sync, and fall back down in a mess of blindly clutching hands and tangled limbs. There's a crash that makes Dan jump a little again, then the sound of popcorn skittering across the floor. 

“Phil,” says Dan automatically, tone reprimanding. His heart is still going a thousand miles an hour, but it's a natural response by now. 

There's a short silence punctuated with heavy breathing from both the screen and the audience. Louise glances at Phil, and hides a smile in her sleeve.

Tyler is the first to let out an explosive burst of laughter. 

And then suddenly they're all rolling around on the cushions and laughing at a bowl of spilled popcorn, and perhaps a little at Dan or at Phil, but mostly the popcorn. It's wonderfully ridiculous, and Dan gasps for air as he holds on to Phil’s shoulder. Louise's laughing so hard that it takes her three tries to successfully press the pause button on the remote.

Just when the laughter starts to die down, Phil extends a red-socked foot and pokes at one of the popcorn pieces lying on the floor. 

“That one looks like a poodle, doesn't it?”

It's enough to set them all off again, like a lit match held to the end of a firecracker. Dan laughs until his stomach hurts, and suddenly the darkened room doesn't seem creepy anymore, it seems full of warmth instead.

(is it odd that this moment, right now, is the most at home he's felt for a long long time?)

 

***

 

They decide to crash at Tyler’s flat, again, and Louise says that they might be all living there now, at the rate they're going.

(it's a nice thought.)

Like many times before, they remove Tyler's mattress from his bed and combine it with his spare one. The result is just about big enough for the four of them to sleep comfortably, or as comfortable as one can get when every single movement from someone else is magnified a thousand times. 

“Tyler! Stop moving!”

“It's not me!” The accused protests. “It's Phil!”

“No it's not,” Phil says, and he reaches over to shove Tyler in the stomach. The boy instantly doubles over, then whimpers. “Why am I always being bullied?” 

Nobody replies except for one or two snickers, and for a few moments, everything is peaceful. Dan feels himself beginning to drift off to sleep. Then,

“Louise!” Phil lets out a high-pitched whine. “Stop moving! I know it's you! I can see you!”

Louise doesn't say anything, just flips over on her back again and lets out a horrendously loud snore. Dan tilts his head to see a smirk on her face as she purposefully bounces on the mattresses, once, then twice. Everyone can feel the shaking, and Phil groans again. 

“Louuuuuuu,” Tyler whines.

Louise snores again in response, and it's so dramatic it seems almost cartoonish in nature. Dan can't help it, he lets out a laugh. Louise grins at him.

Phil lets out a long-suffering sigh.

The silence drags on for one beat, two, then Tyler matches Louise's snore with a commendable one of his own.

It sends Dan and Louise into giggles again, and when Tyler joins in, the mattresses start jolting in time to their laughter. Dan covers his mouth with his hand and tries to press down his mirth, but the giggles escape even so.

He thinks that perhaps he's kind of drunk right now, on the silence of the night and the warmth of his friends beside him.

“Shhhhh!” Phil says, whacking a pillow into Dan's face. Dan retaliates by kicking out his leg in Phil’s direction, narrowly missing his crotch. Thankfully, Phil manages to dodge, which is good, because Dan’s currently too intoxicated to be embarrassed or apologetic.

“Whoops,” he says, as deadpan as he can manage.

Phil sounds absolutely scandalised when he says, “Hey!” and for a split second, Dan wonders if he's crossed a line.

Then Phil dissolves into giggles too, and Dan allows himself to be swept up in the swell of laughter. He's not even sure what's so funny, but it doesn't matter, not when it's this late at night, and everyone's just messing about.

Like kids at a sleepover, he finds himself thinking, which is weird, because he's never gone to a proper sleepover before, so how would he even know? But he's pretty sure that this is how a sleepover would feel like, all warm and giggly over nothing in particular, when everyone else in the world seems to be asleep, as if this pocket of time is a secret between the four of them, like a treasure no one else can see.

Maybe this was the reason behind all the hype about sleepovers when he was younger, he thinks. Sleeping with - oh god no, that sounds horribly wrong, (though...well...let’s stop that train of thought right there, shall we?) - _sleeping on the same bed_ as his friends always seems really intimate, in a way, as if all the physical and emotional barriers they put up in the day are kicked down the moment they lie down together. It's...something, and Dan loves it, loves these moments he shares with Phil and Tyler and Louise when nothing in the world seems to matter at all.

(especially Phil. particularly Phil.)

(don't even bother lying to yourself.)

Dan's so lost in his own thought-rambling that he doesn't realise what's going on until Louise smashes a pillow into the left side of his face. 

“Oi!”

“Earth to Dannnnn,” she sings. “What are you thinking about? Some secret lover that we don't know about?"

Dan feels his cheeks flame, and he splutters. "As - as if!" Almost as an afterthought, he whacks Louise back with his own pillow, and thus a raging pillow fight begins. Dan's efforts are half-hearted, though; he finds himself just content to lie there watching his friends' antics, and giggle helplessly along.

Eventually the laughter fades, and everyone settles down. 

"Goodnight guys," says Tyler, sleepiness evident in his voice. 

After a chorus of goodnights, everything goes quiet. Soon the only sound Dan can hear is the even breathing that fills the flat, and the occasional _vroom_ of a car passing by. He tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling, soaking up the warmth of his friends by his side. 

It's that kind of time at night where lines are blurred and everything seems hazy and Dan lets his thoughts wander and ramble in a way he usually wouldn't allow. He thinks about the horror movie they just watched, and how glad he is to not be sleeping alone tonight. Then he thinks about the poodle-popcorn, and wonders if he should have taken a picture of it, for memories' sake. Then he thinks about "I'm here," and remembers the way Phil's hand felt in his, real and rough and kind of perfect. 

He thinks he wouldn't mind holding Phil's hand again.

The moonlight filters in from the window and illuminates the cracks in the plaster, and Dan traces them with his eyes. They are kind of oddly beautiful, he thinks, or perhaps that's just the sleep-haze talking.

(he doesn't bother trying to count them.)

The last thing he feels before he drops off to sleep is Phil's arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Dan doesn't resist, in fact he kind of melts, because Phil is wonderfully warm, and soft, and -

By the time some part of his mind manages to pipe up a warning, Dan's already fully asleep.

He dreams of the scent of coffee, warm hands, and autumn sunlight shining through the leaves.

 

***

 

The days pass, and Dan grabs hold of every happy moment, every laugh, every roll of the eyes and keeps them in the side pocket of his brain. When things get bad, or when things get worse, he takes these out and shields himself from all those things he doesn't want to think about.

It works, to a point. 

Dan's always been like this, and he knows it. _Repressing_ , he used to call it, as a half-joke, until it seemed too...real, and he just stopped calling it anything at all. It's how he copes - he stuffs problems and issues at the back of his mind and occupies himself with distractions and happy memories and good coffee. 

He flunks a test horribly one day and laughs it off with, “The first year never matters, does it?” He scrolls past a recent picture of his smiling parents and brother on Facebook, and distracts himself from the painful way his heart twists by skyping Phil and goofing off for an hour. He doesn't understand a single word of what his law textbook is trying to tell him, can't see why it matters at all anyway, so he stares at the stars instead.

It's what he's always done - ignore, try to forget, then pretend to himself that everything's fine. It's a skill that Dan's perfected over the years, and it's come in handy countless times.

In fact, he's doing such a good job that it's a huge shock to him when the call comes.

They're playing Mario Kart one day, Phil versus Louise. Dan's rooting firmly for Phil, or perhaps he's not so much rooting as screaming instructions at the screen and clutching at Phil's leg whenever it gets particularly close.

Mario Kart is intense, Dan admits.

“Yes!” He leaps up and shrieks when Phil manages to get first place. “Take that, Louise! Take that, random people around the globe!”

Phil rolls his eyes and smiles, fond exasperation crinkling the corners of his eyes. Dan looks at him and feels his heart stutter a little in his chest. He turns his head forcibly away to look at the scores on the screen. Louise's right at the bottom, and she groans and flips over on her back, making the sofa bounce.

“I give up. I suck.”

“You do,” Tyler agrees easily, taking the controller from her. “You're horrible at this.”

Louise doesn't deny it, just groans more. Phil laughs.

"It's okay, Lou, it takes practice - ” Dan's cut off by the ringing of his phone in his pocket. He stops mid sentence, confused.

“Wait, you have friends?” Tyler teases. 

Normally Dan would rib him back, but right now he's too preoccupied with his phone to care.

Because for the first time since that Thursday in October, the caller ID on the screen displays _Mum._

Dan stands up abruptly, nearly falling over in the process. 

(he feels numb.)

“I - I have to take a call. Sorry,” he manages to stammer out, and he's grateful when his friends don't probe, though they do exchange looks. Phil's eyes meet his across the sofa, and in the blue Dan sees curiosity and an overwhelming amount of concern.

He swallows, then nods, a minuscule movement of the head. 

_It's fine._

Phil nods back. 

_We’re here for you._

Dan stumbles out of the room, the phone still buzzing incessantly in his hand. 

(is it - might it be?)

(don't get your hopes up.)

He takes a shaky breath, thoughts still all over the place, then swipes to pick up the call.

“Mum?”

(he hates how young he sounds, like a desperate child crying out for attention.)

“How are you doing, Daniel?”

Her voice is soft, almost tender. Dan hates it, hates how casual she sounds, despite the months of not speaking, of her ignoring Dan’s existence entirely, of Dan floundering and trying to find his footing without the support of his family, of him staring at the stars at night and feeling impossibly lonely - 

“F-fine,” he rubs a hand up his face. “I'm fine.” Coolness seeps through his tone, and maybe also a little of the hurt he's fighting so hard to control.

 _Why didn't you pick up my calls all those times_ , he wants to scream, but he doesn't. 

_Why couldn't you - didn't you - accept me?_

_Am I really that disgusting to you?_

“Good,” says his mother. She sounds distant, a million miles away, and Dan feels his heart splinter a little more. 

“Do you have anything on next weekend?” 

Her tone is perfectly polite. Dan's heart leaps a little. 

“No, why?”

“Can we meet?”

Dan knows his mother well enough to guess that this is probably going to lead up to an apology. He can hear the slight sadness in her tone, hidden by a layer of stiff formality.

“Okay. But - ” he takes a breath, “if all you're going to do is try to convince me to change my - ” 

he takes another breath, 

“my sexuality, which I can't and I won't, then there's no point.”

The line goes quiet for a while. Dan waits.

“Next Saturday, 5pm? I'll be at Albert Square.” Her tone is still clipped, but Dan detects a hint of warmth underneath.

“Okay.” Dan pauses. 

“See you?”

“Okay,” he says again, then the line goes dead.

He heads back to the room stumbling a little. 

“You okay?” Phil asks softly, when Tyler and Louise are preoccupied with something to do with the controller. He bumps Dan’s shoulder lightly, and Dan bumps him back immediately. The action helps to steady Dan somehow. Without thinking, he leans a little more into Phil's warmth.

(is he okay?)

(he's not very sure.)

(his heart is pounding and his head is spinning and he doesn't know what to think)

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

He's never been that good of a liar, he thinks, so it's no surprise when Phil shoots him a look that's equal parts worry and exasperation. He offers a sheepish smile in response.

Phil sighs a little, then reaches out and grabs Dan's hand. He squeezes it once.

Dan stares. 

Phil coughs, then looks away. Dan can see a slight pink tint on his cheeks.

He looks down on their joined hands, then thinks, _okay._

He squeezes back. When Phil turns around, Dan mouths, “Thank you.”

They both let go a moment later, incredibly aware of their surroundings. Dan rubs at the back of his steadily flushing neck, and Phil bites his lip.

Dan thinks again, _okay._

(he feels slightly giddy.)

 

***

 

When he finally leaves the flat and heads back to campus, he's smiling.

The confusion and general shock has cleared, leaving only anticipation and a startling ray of hope. 

(would she still be that sort of person after four months, or would she have changed for the better?)

(would she finally be able to understand?)

(would she finally be able to accept him for who he is?)

Some part of Dan, the part that usually questions everything, wonders if he's stupid for getting so excited over a phone call and a promise that could easily be broken, and break his heart along with it. But no matter how he tries, he can't stop the bubble of hope filling up his chest. 

For once, the smile doesn't leave his face when he goes to sleep that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelation no. 1

Spring is fully underway now, and Tyler forcibly drags them all out into the sunlight one morning, ignoring their protests.

“It's sunny. I'm going to burn.” Phil whines. “Have you seen my skin?”

“It's barely ten, Tyler, what do you take me for?” Dan adds, though he's blatantly contradicting himself by being fully awake and staring at his phone.

“Oh, come on,” Tyler whines right back. “It's spring, guys, aren't y'all hyped?”

“No,” Louise says, “not one bit.”

They all trudge out in the end anyway, to the park near the coffee shop. The weather is perfect, warm with a cool breeze that blows through their hair. Dan tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and tastes the familiar sweetness of spring air on his tongue. 

They walk in companionable silence for a while - occasionally one of them points to a squirrel, or perhaps admires some flowers - but for the most part they stay quiet, soaking up the atmosphere. 

Spring had always felt like hope, Dan thinks. A new beginning.

Well, that's fitting.

It's a metaphor, isn't it, he muses. Like the kind you find in a book, or a TV show - only this is real life, so it's either a coincidence, or some mystical higher-power (that he doesn't believe in) arranged it to be this way. 

Maybe life's full of metaphors, and they exist as warnings or predictions, but we just don't notice them very often. Or maybe the metaphors don't mean anything at all.

(he probably needs to stop before this gets too deep.)

“Dan.” Phil's voice jolts him from his thoughts, and he blinks.

When Dan doesn't say anything for a few moments, Phil leans over and pokes him in the cheek, right at the place where his dimple usually is.

Dan blinks again. His heart stutters almost painfully in his ribcage. 

“Uh,” he says, like the intelligent person he is.

“Dan, wake up.” Phil's smile is teasing with a hint of fondness. Dan stumbles a little, nearly falling over.

“O-oh, yeah, sorry about that. Must - must be the spring air, y’know.” He lets out an awkward laugh. 

He is acutely aware that his cheeks are flaming and he's stuttering like a fool. 

Phil shoots him a questioning look, then apparently decides not to ask. “Anyway, look! These are amazing,” he gestures at the spread of flowers in front of them - apparently they'd walked all the way to the flower garden on the other side of the park, and Dan hadn't even noticed. Tyler and Louise are a distance away, standing in front of another bush of flowers, leaving Phil and Dan alone.

(actually, they've been doing that quite a lot lately, haven't they?)

(not that Dan's complaining.)

He realises that Phil's still waiting for an answer, so he hums and nods his head. “Yeah. I don't have half an idea what any of these flowers are, though.” 

He offers a grin for no reason at all.

“I think this one’s a camellia,” says Phil, grinning back. “ _Camellia japonica_ \- that's my mum's favourite flower, I think.”

Dan hums again, impressed. “Cool,” he says, and he means it.

“It's been ages since I saw one, though. Look at it - isn't it pretty?” 

Phil sounds a little like an excited child at Christmas, and Dan can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

It is pretty, in a textbook sort of way - perfectly symmetrical, pink and white against the green. Dan reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb across the edge of a petal, feeling the delicate softness under his fingertips. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. He turns to Phil to continue his sentence, but the words die in his throat.

Phil’s taking a picture of the camellia with his phone, one hand in his pocket. He looks warm, and content, and genuinely happy, and under the spring sunlight his eyes look like the fucking ocean.

Dan forgets what he wanted to say.

For a long, helpless moment, all he can think is: _but you're prettier_.

(oh dear.)

(oh no oh no oh _no_ )

“This one - I think these are rhododendrons,” Phil says, pointing to another bush of small purple flowers. Dan blinks in its direction. “ _Rhododendron ponticum_.” 

Dan laughs. “Okay, smartass. Who knew you were such a flower nerd?” 

He very firmly shoves away all thoughts he shouldn't have. 

“Yeah, yeah,” says Phil, rolling his eyes. “You're one to speak - don't you have an entire collection of Star Trek figures?”

“That's Star _Wars_ ,” Dan interrupts hotly. 

Phil smirks. 

Dan splutters. “You - you said that just to wind me up, didn't you?” He swats at Phil’s shoulder, and Phil ducks with a small scream. “But yeah. I guess we're all nerds.”

Phil's responding smile reminds Dan of the setting sun, and Dan can't look away.

 

***

 

Dan manages to keep his composure until they leave the park, and he begs off a movie session with the typical excuse of having to study. It's completely out of character for Dan, and he knows it, but he chooses to ignore the odd looks his friends ( _just friends_ , he reminds himself) send his way.

The moment he steps into his room, he collapses face-first onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight.

 _Fuck_ , is his first thought.

He buries his face into his pillow, then groans.

It can't be - no.

(please.)

No, it's not. It's not.

But it is, isn't it? The ever-right voice in his head pipes up, and Dan knows that he can't ignore it any longer.

Dan's not a stranger to crushes - he's quite familiar with them, in fact. He remembers trying to ask a pretty teenage girl that lived next door out on a date at age seven, remembers sneaking a love letter into Ashley’s locker at age twelve, remembers gazing dreamily at the back of Connor’s head during Maths at age fifteen. Dan knows all too well the butterflies that take over your stomach, or the uncontrollable stuttering whenever you talk to them, or the urge to constantly spend time with them no matter what you're doing.

(fuck.)

(how long has it been?)

He very nearly starts hyperventilating into his pillow. The bed sheets feel unusually rough under his fingertips.

(deep breaths, Dan. deep breaths.)

It will be fine. It will be.

(will it?)

Dan's head is spinning. He clutches tighter at the sheets and wills himself to stay calm.

Because…

He lets out a breath.

Because if there's another thing Dan's learnt with so many years of vaguely questionable experience under his belt, it's this: all crushes are just that - crushes, and they fade away with time. Dan's certain of it. He's always been one to get over infatuations fairly quickly - once, he crushed on a girl for all of five minutes before a hopelessly handsome guy walked past and Dan was gone - so there's no reason why this shouldn't be the same. No reason at all.

Because that's all this is, isn't it? A crush. Nothing but a stupid, childish crush.

Right?

Right.

He’ll just ignore it, bury everything deep inside his chest, and it should be fine. It will be fine. The feelings will fizzle out, just like they've always done.

He lets out another breath, then stretches out his legs so they dangle off the edge.

It will be fine, he thinks again, as if repeating it will make it come true.

It has to be.

Because Phil is his best friend, for fuck’s sake, and if there's anything Dan dreads most in the world, it's not spiders, or inevitable death, or flunking his law degree - it's losing Phil's friendship. As sappy as it is, it really is the one thing Dan treasures the most at the moment. 

So he can't make things weird between them, he can't. Hell, he can't even imagine his life without Phil and the others now.

Dan rolls over on his back and stares at the ceiling. The ceiling stares back, and Dan can feel its expectant gaze on his skin.

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

He'll ignore it, and everything will go away. He'll just have to control his thoughts and his feelings a little more, shove everything to the back of his head, and the crush - ugh, what is he, seven? - will fade out on its own accord.

Well.

He laughs a little, but it's not really a laugh, more like a mirthless huff of air.

He's always been quite good at that sort of thing, hasn't he? 

 

***

 

He isn't.

At least, not this time.

Dan did try. He tried his best. He locked up all crush-related thoughts about Phil in his mind and threw the key into the void, but somehow it didn't work. They keep escaping, and he blames it on Phil.

Phil, whose eyes manage to look like sapphires and the summer sky at the same time. Phil, who subconsciously does the tongue-between-his-teeth thing whenever he laughs, seemingly unaware of how endearing it is. Phil, who constantly leans into Dan's personal space, who casually pokes his cheek, bumps his shoulder, brushes their hands together, so that Dan is a blushing mess.

It's truly a wonder that Phil hasn't figured it out yet. Dan is endlessly grateful.

They're lounging at Tyler's one day and pretending to study on Friday evening. Dan's just scrolling through tumblr, and if he looks over he can see Louise watching YouTube videos. Phil’s playing Crossy Road. Dan leans over and watches the screen, bumping Phil's shoulder with his own. Phil swats at him half-heartedly.

“Guys,” Tyler says suddenly, breaking the quiet. Phil's reindeer spins a hundred and eighty degrees in the middle of the road, then dies. He groans. Dan snickers.

“Yeah?”

“Do y'all want to play Just Dance? I just got it.”

Dan blinks, looks at the pile of work on the floor.

“Yes!” Louise says before Dan can react. “Oh my god - I love this game so much, you don't even know. It was my childhood.”

“Me too,” says Phil. “They called me…Lightning Legs Lester, back in my day.”

Dan splutters. “Phil. You have, like, four left feet.”

Phil starts to say something, but breaks off and laughs instead. He pokes his tongue between his teeth again, of-fucking-course, and Dan feels his stomach swoop.

He swallows, then looks away.

(the universe is cruel, and Dan is a mess.)

(what's new?)

It doesn't take long for Tyler to set the game up, and Dan takes one last look at his law assignment before he both literally and figuratively kicks it to the side.

Oh well.

“Okay, Danny, you're going down,” says Phil, swinging the controller. Louise giggles.

“ _Danny_?” Dan cries, outraged. “And stop - stop - you're going to take Lou’s eye out with that thing - ”

Tyler laughs, then says, “My mind just went in a completely unnecessary direction.”

One beat of silence as the implications sink in, then all three of them chorus, “ _Tyler._ ”

“What were you even thinking of?” Dan half-screeches. The answer hits him as he speaks - Phil's words could be taken to mean something else altogether in a very different context. Dan nearly facepalms.

Tyler starts to reply with a wicked grin, then a scramble of protests cuts him off.

“I'd rather not know what's going on in your head, Ty, thanks,” says Louise.

Behind her, Phil nods firmly, lips pressed together to hold in a laugh. Dan grins.

It takes another ten minutes of random back-and-forth banter before they actually start playing. 

“Toxic!” Phil says. “Can we do that one?” He switches on his puppy-dog eyes, and Dan finds it truly pathetic, how fast he relents.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and he hopes to hell that no one can see his cheeks flame.

Tyler raises his eyebrows but doesn't object. When the song starts and the first pose comes up, they all burst into laughter.

“Okay,” Dan gasps, clutching at his stomach. “Let's do this.”

So they do. 

It is cringeworthy, yes, but also incredibly hilarious. Dan thinks he might faint from both the laughter and the exertion.

Phil is, expectedly, the worst out of the four of them. 

“But why?” Phil whines. “I did everything right!” 

“Too bad, _Philly_ ,” Dan says, because he is a brat, and also it's worth it to see Phil pout. 

“You're not even close! You missed me by, what, a thousand points?” Louise says, laughing. “I'm third!”

“And I'm first!” Tyler grins, then declares with no small amount of smugness, “I am the CHAMPION OF THE PEOPLE.” 

Phil groans. “I'm getting this back next round. Y'all better watch out.”

The evening trickles by, accompanied with ridiculous dance moves, various declarations of winning and bouts of uncontrollable laughter. Tyler isn't actually half bad at dancing, and Dan tells him so.

“Aw, thanks,” Tyler says, then places a hand on his heart. “I would return the compliment, but I really can't.”

Dan shoves a pillow in his face. 

Phil rolls around laughing. Louise just rolls her eyes.

Eventually they're all too winded to play any more. “We really need to exercise more,” says Louise.

Dan waves a hand lazily. “Next year, maybe.” Phil snorts, and Dan shoves at his shoulder.

When night arrives, they pull out the mattresses and lie there talking in the darkness of Tyler's flat.

It's that familiar pocket of time at night where thoughts and secrets flow as easily as water. Dan traces arbitrary shapes on the sheets with the tip of his index finger, listening to the familiar lilts of his friends’ voices.

“Sometimes I wish I didn't have to go to Uni, you know,” says Tyler, half to himself and half to the rest of them. “It just feels meaningless sometimes.”

Dan smiles a little - he's not the only one. “Yeah,” he says softly, letting some of the exhaustion he feels every day seep into his voice. “And if you don't, you feel like you're failing your family and ruining your future, don't you?” 

He hadn't really meant to say that, it just - kind of slipped out. For a moment, Dan panics - there wasn't any joking intonation to that statement at all, so he can't possibly laugh it off as part of his depressing humour shtick.

Then Tyler nods and makes a agreeing kind of noise, so Dan relaxes and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. No one says anything for a while - Dan suspects they're all falling asleep.

The silence stretches on, comfortable and peaceful. Dan stares at the ceiling and finally allows himself to think about what he's been repressing all day - the meeting with his mother tomorrow. It scares the crap out of him, he'll admit, but he's also oddly eager to see her again.

His relationship with his parents had never really been...normal, for lack of a better word, he thinks. He loves his mum and dad, of course, but in a formal, almost obligatory way - for some reason they had always lacked the regular closeness between parent and son. Dan thinks part of it might be because he just didn't fit in very well into his family - unlike his younger brother whom everyone loved, even Dan. Growing up, he was always sort of the outcast, and he never really seemed to belong - not at home, not in school, and certainly not anywhere else in the world.

He remembers when his parents first sat him down to talk about university, a few days after his cousin finally landed a job as a doctor in a hospital in London. Dan had no clue what he wanted to do.

“Your mother picked out some choices for you,” his father said, and Dan remembers idly looking through the brochures as he spoke. 

“We decided that with your results, studying medicine, law, accounting or business would be the most suitable for you. Which do you want?”

Dan had no particular liking or disliking for any of those. He knew, though, that his uncle had become a successful lawyer at a young age, and was highly respected in the family for earning so much money at his job. It wasn't like Dan had better choices anyway, so he picked up another brochure and said, “Law, I think.”

“Alright,” said his mother, sounding happy and oddly relieved. She squeezed his knee, and in her eyes Dan saw hope and overwhelming expectations and also a little bit of pride.

He looked away.

A few weeks later, he received the notification that he was accepted into the University of Manchester, which his parents had helped him apply for. He had been almost giddy, then, with the prospect of leaving the home-that-never-really-felt-like-home. 

That felt like years ago. Hell, even the phone call and the text seemed so long ago, though Dan knows that the whole fiasco was only a couple of months back. His mindset regarding the whole sexuality thing has evolved somewhat since then - he went from hating his parents like he'd never done before, to telling himself that he didn't give a flying fuck, nope not at all, to his current mood: he didn't really care that much if they accepted him or not, but it would be pretty great if they did, partially because the world could do with less homophobic parents around.

(or maybe he's kind of gone numb, just a little.)

Dan sighs into the silence, bitter and tired and sad. He closes his eyes, but they fly open again when someone to his left grabs his hand gently, almost cradling Dan's hand with his own.

He sucks in a breath, feels his heartbeat spike.

It's Phil.

(of course it is.)

He sneaks a glance to his left, and is mildly surprised to find Phil looking back, a question in his eyes.

Under the moonlight, Phil looks rumpled and soft around the edges and also. Um.

Pretty fucking ethereal. 

Dan curses at the way his cheeks heat up immediately. He's immensely lucky that it's nighttime, and Dan’s face happens to be sheltered from the moonlight.

“You okay?” Phil mouths after a moment.

It's times like this that Dan remembers why he's absolutely adamant on staying as Phil's best friend instead of risking it and possibly losing everything they've built up - because this guy not only makes the best coffees ever, he's also absurdly perceptive and sweet and incredibly concerned about his friends. It's one of the things Dan ( _platonically_ ) loves about him - somehow Phil always seems to bring him comfort whenever he needs it, knowingly or not.

(he wouldn't risk ruining that for the world, let alone a stupid crush.)

Dan nods. He hesitates a little, then squeezes Phil's hand back.

_I'm fine. Thank you._

Phil smiles at him, blue eyes soft.

_Okay._

Dan feels the now-familiar warmth blooming in his chest again, the type he only feels when he's with Phil. It strips him bare and lights him up from the inside out, ripping him of all coherent thought, and he can't do anything but smile back helplessly.

(Christ, is he _five_?)

It takes a few moments for Dan to realise that Phil has dozed off. He's the only one left awake.

He looks at their joined hands on the mattress, then up at Phil, then at their hands again. Though he knows that Phil means it platonically, he can't help thinking that this feels quite…perfect.

So he doesn't pull away. 

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of cornflower-blue eyes and a smile that could light up the entire world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more things happen
> 
>  
> 
> (A/N: i am immensely unsatisfied with this chapter. i apologise in advance)

 

When Dan wakes up, it takes a moment for him to realise why his nerves are buzzing - it's finally Saturday, and he's going to meet his mum in less than ten hours.

(oh god.)

The sunlight streams in from the window, and Dan tries to lift his left hand to rub at his eyes - keyword: tries, because, as he realises a moment later, his fingers are tightly intertwined with Phil's, laced in that soppily romantic way that couples do.

He blinks, head still slightly fuzzy.

(what?)

(is this…)

(platonic. yes.)

(yes, of course.)

(still…)

(no. it doesn't mean anything.)

He allows himself to stare at their locked hands for one more self-indulgent second, then gently pries his fingers away from Phil's. Phil doesn't wake up, but he does reach out, making grabby hands like a child, before he settles back into his slumber.

Dan thinks helplessly, _cute_.

He forces himself to shake off the thought.

A moment later, he sighs, then hoists himself off the mattress. It's with a slight shock that he finds Tyler sitting at the dining table a short distance away, looking right at Dan like he's watching a particularly interesting movie.

“Uh,” Dan says. 

His face burns.

Tyler's eyes twinkle as he sips at his cup of coffee. “Damn, you've really gotten the heart eyes for him there, huh?” He comments, casual as anything, as if they're discussing the weather.

Dan feels himself flush even more, if that's humanly possible. The slight teasing edge in Tyler's voice tells Dan that he's seen everything, and, well, Dan wasn't exactly being subtle about his feelings, was he?

He sighs again. Tyler looks endlessly amused.

“Me and Louise had a feeling, you know,” he says easily, motioning for Dan to come over. “Forgive us, but you were kind of obvious,” and there's the knowing smile again. Dan decides that he hates it.

He sits down on a stool, then plants his face down on the tabletop.

“Aw, come on,” teases Tyler. He pushes at Dan's shoulder. “Don't worry, we won't tell him if you don't want him to know.”

The last words carry a question, and Dan very firmly shakes his head. But because he's still faceplanting into the table, he ends up just sort of wiping his nose back and forth on the glass, so he has to raise his head to do it properly again.

Tyler laughs. Dan glowers.

After a beat of silence, defeated: “When did you find out?”

Tyler hums. “Around last week, I think.” He pauses. “You? When did you...y’know?”

Dan lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

At that moment, Louise comes clattering from the kitchen with a mug of tea.

“Oh,” is all she says after a second.

 _Yeah_ , Dan thinks, a mixture of bitterness and fondness and unexpected relief swirling in his stomach.

 _Oh_.

 

***

 

At 2pm, Dan downs what's left of his iced mocha and grins around at the rest of them. “Sorry, got to go. I’ve got something on today.”

Louise prods. “What?”

“Yeah, what's so important that you're willing to miss out on spending time with us?” Tyler chimes in, wicked smile lighting up his face.

Dan feels his stomach drop a little, but he fights to keep the grin intact. “Well, um - ”

“Let him go, guys,” Phil cuts in, laughing. His eyes meet Dan's across the counter.

_It's fine, you don't have to tell us._

Dan lets out a breath, smiles a little more.

 _Thanks_.

(it's a struggle not to drown in those eyes, but Dan manages it.)

(barely.)

“Yeah,” he says aloud, smirking, then puts on his most obnoxious-brat voice. “You're not my mum, Ty, you can't tell me what to do.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Phil says, giggling. “Tyler would be the worst parent in exis - ow!”

“You deserved that,” says Tyler, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “And anyway, Lou’s the mum, isn't she?”

Louise sighs. “My fate had been sealed before I agreed to anything.”

“That's the spirit!”

“It's okay, mum, we love you - ” Tyler attempts to envelop Louise in a hug, but she pushes him off, “no matter how one-sided this love might be,” he finishes woefully.

Dan can't help but laugh, even as a voice in his head reminds him of his own “one-sided love”, as Tyler puts it. He shoves the thought away and tells himself to stop being stupid - it's just a crush, nothing more.

(right?)

“Wait,” says Phil, eyes comically wide. “If Lou's the mother, then who's the father?” There's a short burst of laughter.

"You are all tragically fatherless, I'm afraid,” says Louise. “I picked all of you out from an orphanage.”

Dan can't resist. “There had to be something that made you choose us, then. You don't just pick any random kid, do you?”

Louise nods her head gravely. “You're right. Phil, because he makes fantastic coffee - ”

Phil grins and strikes a pose that's probably meant to look cool. Dan almost chokes.

“Dan, because he's a great big teddy bear at heart - ”

“Aww,” the three boys say in unison.

“and Tyler, because, well, the manager begged me to take him.”

There's a pause as the words sink in. A split-second later, the four of them burst into laughter - even Tyler, who's clutching at his heart, an expression of mock-hurt on his face.

“I thought you loved me,” he wails.

“We do,” assures Louise, still giggling. So is Phil, who's covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stop laughing. The corners of his eyes are crinkled with mirth, and Dan hates himself for noticing.

(but there's something about the way those dark glasses balance on the bridge of Phil's nose that accentuates the paleness of his skin, something about the lighting in the cafe that makes Phil's eyes look like the sea with sunlight glinting off the waves, something about Phil, Philip Michael Lester, Phil the barista, Phil the English major that's just so…so _Phil_ that it makes Dan's heart ache and Dan can't stay here any longer or he might burst, or even worse, he might go ahead and do something stupid like lean forward across the counter and kiss Phil till he's breathless and - )

Dan stands up abruptly. The chair scrapes across the floor tiles; he cringes at the sound.

“Okay, I really have to go now.”

(does he?)

“Bye, guys.”

“Bye,” they chorus in unison. Dan grabs his bag and leaves without a backwards glance.

(oh dear god, he's screwed.)

 

***

 

In his room, Siri tells him that the journey to Albert Square is only going to take about an hour.

Dan decides to leave at three anyway.

Of course, he reaches absurdly early. There's nothing to do, or rather nothing he can think of to do, so he shuffles around mindlessly for half an hour, earphones plugged in and blaring Fall Out Boy, hands stuck firmly in his pockets.

He can't stop his thoughts from wandering, can't stop the coil of anticipation and nervousness in his gut.

(why did she want to meet him?)

(what the hell is he doing here this early?)

(how about Dad?)

(would she accept him? welcome him back after his unofficial - but clear - separation from the family?)

(or would she be here simply to tell Dan that they've cut all ties from now on?)

(god, no, no, stop. stop.)

He pushes the last question away with a concentrated effort, then sighs. There's no point in speculating, he knows, but he can't help it.

Two songs later, his phone buzzes.

_From: Mum_

_Meet me at the tea shop?_

 

***

 

“So.”

The word hangs in the air. Dan struggles to keep his tone even.

It's been nearly half an hour since he sat down to find his mother drinking a cup of tea - Earl Grey, Dan thinks, it’s her favourite. He had expected her to start talking, or at least say hi, but she didn't, though he did - in fact she didn't acknowledge Dan's presence at all, apart from a stiff nod. He'd sat there, feeling like a complete idiot and wondering if he should just up and leave and pretend this never happened, until he recognised the look on his mother's face. Beneath the familiar cool mask, there were flickers of uncertainty and unadulterated fear, and Dan knew her well enough to know that she was psyching herself up for something. So he'd sat and waited, pulled his anger under relative control and tried again.

His mother doesn't react, just sips at her tea for the fifth time, then puts the cup down delicately. Dan watches her movements and grits his teeth and forces himself to wait.

“How is university?” She says at last, and just like that, Dan feels a dam inside him burst.

“How is university?” He repeats. “ _How is university?_ ”

Everything comes surging out all at once - the hurt, the anger, the bitterness, the frustration, all the emotions he's been bottling up for the past few months. Dan is powerless to do anything but ride the waves.

“University is fucking great, Mum, how about that?” He spits. “I love the lectures and the classes and my room and every shitty thing about the place, and you know why? Because it helps me forget about my even shittier parents who don't give a fuck about me or how I'm settling in for the first time I've ever been away or simply my existence in general just ‘cos they're freaking homophobes who can't stand the thought of ever having a child who's not straight.”

Dan knows that he's shouting. He also knows that people are staring, whispering, possibly even recording.

He doesn't care.

His mother looks like she's been slapped across the face. “Dan, I - ”

“Don't,” he cuts in, and it's only when he hears the slight tremble of his own voice that he realises he's dangerously close to tears. The expression on his mother's face isn't helping either, and Dan hates it, hates himself for being so vulnerable and so exposed and so fucking weak.

He takes a breath, tries to rein in the emotions simmering in his veins.

“Do you,” he says, making sure his voice is steadier this time, “do you have any idea how I felt? When you said - when you said all of that? When you didn't pick up, when you didn't call, when…”

and fuck, he's definitely going to cry, very soon,

“and when Dad told me not to come home? Do you know how terrible that was? How horrible it is to be told by the person who raised you that a part of you is unnatural and wrong and unacceptable, to be told through a text that they don't want to see you during one of the only times of the year you can meet them, to come to the conclusion that you are unloved and worthless and - and…”

The choked sob that escapes is completely involuntary, but once he's started, he can't seem to stop.

All of a sudden, it's too much to handle - all the memories of that period of time are rushing back all at once, pressing down on his lungs and rendering him breathless in the worst way possible. He remembers tear-soaked pillows in the middle of the night, he remembers being fussed over by Phil and Louise and Tyler a little more than usual, he remembers forcing everything to the back of his mind and immersing himself in his daily activities and the company of his friends, so that he can make himself forget.

And forget he did. At least, until now.

“Dan…”

Not _Daniel_ , he belatedly realises. She hasn't called him Dan in ages.

He waits, stares at the wood grain swirls of the tabletop.

“Dan, I'm - I'm so sorry, okay?”

She takes in a shaky breath, and it's then that Dan sees the tears streaming down her cheeks.

It's a shock, to say the least.

“I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, I'm sorry for this whole mess - I've been a horrible parent, I know, and it's taken me too long to come to this realisation, but - ”

She stops, covers her face with her hands. It doesn't do much to muffle the sobs.

Dan feels a little like he's been socked in the stomach.

Of all the things he's been expecting, it's certainly not _this_.

His mother has always been a relatively...well, proud person. Dan thinks he can count on one hand the number of times he's heard his mother say the word “sorry”, and he's definitely never seen his mother break down in front of him before. For as long as he can remember, the cool mask had always been in place when she needed it, and Dan had grown to expect it in situations where he could tell she feared that she might lose control.

Some part of him, the part that's not in shock, briefly acknowledges that this, this apology, means a lot.

A few seconds later, she lifts her head. Dan sees a little of the woman he knows so well return - she sits up straighter and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, even as her shoulders shake with the effort of keeping calm.

“I've thought a lot about it for the past few months,” she states, now with much more composure. “And I've come to the conclusion that I've been a shitty mother, one who's been stupidly narrow-minded and ignorant, and I think part of the reason of this might be the way I was brought up and the way I was taught to view gay people, and I'm not using this as an excuse or anything because I'm in the wrong, I just thought you might like to know, because I've read and learnt a lot of things recently, things that have changed my view, and I'm very aware now that it doesn't change who you are, and most importantly it doesn't change the fact that you're still my son and I love you, I really do.”

Dan wonders dazedly if this is where his tendency to ramble came from.

(his mind is a hurricane of exclamation marks and he feels like a leaf swept up in the swirling storm)

“Dan?”

Her voice is still trembling, and Dan blinks.

“Will you accept my apology?”

He's crying, he realises. He's crying but at the same time he's smiling because, well, all of this is kind of too good to be true.

“Yes,” he says, and then suddenly they're hugging, and it feels great, and then they're talking, fast and jumbled and over each other but who cares, nobody cares, because his mum is saying, “Good grief you've gotten so tall,” and Dan is saying, “I've missed you so much, and also actually I'm bisexual, which means I like - ” and she's saying, “both guys and girls, I know, I love you anyway, I'm so proud of you,” and Dan is saying, “Thank you, thank you so much, I love you too,” and then she's laughing and Dan's laughing through his tears as well.

 

***

 

They walk along the streets when evening sets in. Dan admires the twinkling lights of the city, reminiscent of the ones he observed by himself on a lonely winter’s night.

The memory strikes him hard.

“Mum?” He says softly.

“Yes?” She turns her head to look at him, and all of a sudden Dan is terrified.

“I'm really happy you accept me, and I love you too, and all - but what about,” he swallows, “what about Dad?”

The question hovers in the warm night air. Next to him, his mother sucks in a breath.

“He’s…well.”

That's all Dan needs to hear, really, and he's glad his mum knows it. He drops his gaze to the ground, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

(what did he get his hopes up for?)

(if he didn't, he wouldn't be so bitterly disappointed.)

“I'll speak to him,” his mother says softly. “He’ll come around.”

Dan looks up and smiles. Around them, the street lights sparkle.

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

By the time he gets off the train, the stars are out and the streets are silent. He finds himself trying to walk as quietly as possible, so as to not shatter the peace of the night.

Moonlight is the only thing illuminating his path, save for the few street lamps every now and then. Dan tilts his head up to the stars and maps out constellations with his eyes - it's been a long time since he's seen the night sky like this, he muses, with startling clarity and a beauty so incredible it takes away his breath.

He wonders if he's been staring at cracked ceilings for far too long instead, and the thought makes him chuckle, just a bit. He's not sure why.

The moon ducks behind a cloud, then, and Dan sighs for no reason at all.

He ambles along, scuffing his sneakers against the pavement every now and then. There's no particular destination in mind - right now he's just thinking about night fairies and peeling plaster and warm coffee held in warm hands - so he lets his feet carry him to wherever they want to go. It's time they had a say, he thinks, then laughs a little at himself.

Under the silent splendour of the stars, time seems to ebb away.

Eventually, his footsteps slow to a stop. He looks up to see an all-too-familiar wooden door, one that he's pushed open countless times.

Oh, he thinks, and somehow he's not surprised to be standing at the entrance of the coffee shop.

For one wild moment he wonders if Phil might be here, and his heart speeds up embarrassingly fast - then logic and sense take over, as usual. The jolt of disappointment that courses through his veins takes him by surprise, and he sucks in a breath.

(idiot.)

The place is empty and quiet and dark, just like all the other shops he passed. Through the windows, he can see the upturned stools on the counter and the padlocks on the back doors, and somehow the sight feels incredibly desolate, lacking of the usual bustling warmth that fills the place. Still, Dan thinks that if he focuses hard enough, he can smell the lingering scent of coffee in the night air.

A few moments later, he lets his eyes wander from the windows to the sign on the door. Underneath the declaration that “We are CLOSED”, he catches sight of two lines of text, indistinguishable under the pale moonlight. He leans forward, squinting.

_What season is it when you're on a trampoline?_

_Spring time! :)_

Dan blinks. A split-second later, he straightens up and snorts, allowing the bubble of laughter to fill up his chest.

The smile doesn't drop as he walks back to campus, gets into bed and falls asleep to a sky full of stars.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exams on the horizon

 

The next few days pass in a blur of jokes and laughter and just generally fun. With the invisible weight of what-ifs finally off his back, Dan feels more lighthearted than he has in ages. His friends don't question his sudden cheerfulness, either, and he's grateful for that.

They're watching Voltron at Tyler's one day (“just kiss already” has become a common mantra) when Louise suddenly sits up.

“Guys.”

“Yeah?” Dan says, reaching for another handful of popcorn. On the screen, Keith falls to the ground, and Phil makes an involuntary hurt sort of noise. It's impossibly endearing, and Dan struggles to stay straight-faced.

“When are the mid-year exams?”

“Oh, uh...about another month and a half, I think,” Dan replies. “Why?”

Next to him, Phil sighs. Tyler giggles.

“About time to start studying, don't you think?” Louise says, without a trace of irony in her voice.

Dan's mouth drops open. Now Phil starts giggling too; Dan shoves at him.

“What? Why?”

“It's always better to start revising early, Dan,” lectures Louise, and Dan thinks he can see the hint of a smile. “Avoid last minute preparation, you know? We - let's just get started now, how about that?”

“What?” Dan splutters.

Tyler bursts out into laughter, then muffles it in a cushion.

“I mean,” Dan says hastily, catching sight of Louise's face, “g-getting started earlier is a good thing, yeah? But…”

“But?” Louise prompts. Her eyes glint dangerously, but the small smile persists.

“There's still a lot of time, isn't there?” Dan tries. His voice comes out a lot smaller than he wanted it to.

“It's never too late to start,” Louise says brightly.

Onscreen, the paladins bump fists, and then the episode ends. The signature Netflix music plays, then stops.

Dan drops his eyes first. He sighs. Louise grins.

“After one more episode?” He pleads.

Louise pretends to think for a moment, then nods. Dan exhales, then presses play on the next episode.

“Is she always like this?” He stage-whispers a moment later.

“During the exam season, yeah,” Tyler whispers back, and Phil adds, “She’ll make you study even if you don't want to. I learnt that the hard way.”

“It's for your own good!” Louise says loudly.

“We forgot to warn you - it's your first exam season here, isn't it?”

“Yup.”

“Oh well,” Phil sighs. “She's a real tiger mum, huh?”

Dan makes a noise between a sob and a laugh. Tyler nods in affirmation.

Louise throws a pillow at their heads.

 

  
***

 

  
When the episode ends, Dan makes a half-hearted grab at the remote, only to have it instantly snatched away by Louise.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, shaking her head. Dan sighs and slumps even more.

“Let's go to the coffee shop,” says Phil. “I think Safiya might give us discounts, if she sees me, though it's the exam season and I don't have to work - ”

“Wow Phil, really rocking your employee benefits there, huh,” says Dan from behind a cushion, at the same time Tyler lets out a whoop.

Louise nods. “Okay, coffee shop it is. Grab your study stuff,” she adds, whirling around and pointing at Dan. “We’re going there to study, not to have fun.”

“Yes, Mum.” Tyler says.

“You guys are serious, aren't you,” Dan says, words muffled by the cushion.

“Yup.”

“You know that I hate studying, don't you.”

“Uh huh.”

“You do know that I'm one of the biggest procrastinators on the planet, right?”

“Then all the more you should make yourself start early!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake - ” Dan throws the cushion off and sits up. “No - Phil, not you too,” he pleads as a last ditch attempt.

Phil shrugs a little and shoots him a sheepish smile from the door.

It's just a small smile, but it's enough to make Dan's heart skip a beat. He immediately breaks eye contact, running a hand through his hair and cursing at himself.

“Ugh.”

An expectant pause.

“...fine.”

 

  
***

 

  
Dan isn't made for studying - he never was. He's always been one to be easily distracted by anything and everything in his surroundings: a butterfly, a notification, his laptop calling out to him in a voice worthy of the sirens that haunted sailors. It's a wonder he's managed to even pass his exams when he was younger - a combination of late-night cramming and good luck, he thinks.

So it is kind of a good thing - the study sessions, that is. With Louise's insistence, they've slowly but surely replaced the usual Mario Kart battles and various Netflix binges with books and notes. Dan finds it infinitely easier to study when everyone around him is studying too, and they've come up with a no-distractions pact, even.

“Mates don't let mates get distracted,” is how Tyler describes it.

Dan mostly just likes smacking the phone out of Phil's hand whenever he picks it up. Phil always retaliates, since the two of them are easily the most distracted of the group - and Phil's smiles are always a bonus, too.

Though...well, Phil himself is probably the greatest distraction of all, which is one that no number of pacts can ever help Dan with. It's pathetic, really, how he finds himself unable to think for a minute straight whenever their hands brush, which is a perfectly normal thing for them to do by now. Phil's taken to leaning onto Dan for support, too, as casual as anything, and Dan’s honestly not sure if he can handle the close proximity. He's taking far too much effort not to turn into a blushing mess already.

And sometimes, out of nowhere, Phil will just give one of _those_ smiles - the ones that make Dan’s helpless, damsel-in-distress heart skip a beat, the ones that remind him why Phil is quite literally a ray of sunshine, the ones that Dan can't help but revel in, especially if he knows he was the cause of that smile. So he really can't be blamed for wanting to draw out as many of those smiles as possible whenever he's with Phil, can he? Through the only ways he knows - references and bad puns and cheesy pick-up-lines that hit a little too close to home.

Most of the time, his efforts are rewarded. Phil never fails to shoot a pun right back, too, and Dan thinks he wouldn't be surprised if Phil could be a professional...punner one day.

“Is that even a word?” Tyler says, wrinkling his nose.

“Probably not,” says Phil, then laughs.

It's only when Louise coughs purposefully that Dan realises he's been staring for a moment too long. He forces his eyes away.

Louise pulls him aside one day, away from the others.

“You and Phil flirt like five-year-olds, just so you know.”

“We - I don't _flirt_ ,” is his immediate reaction, even as blood rushes to his cheeks.

She sighs. “You do. Like a kindergartener pulling on metaphorical pigtails. And honestly, Howell, get on with it already. When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him?”

Louise crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly. Dan flounders.

“I - I don't…”

“Next week? Cute as it is, it's getting too much for me and Tyler to bear, I can tell you that.”

“Lou, I...” he swallows. “I'm not - I won't tell him.”

There's a pause. Surprisingly, Louise stays calm. “Why not?”

“It's just...I don't want to ruin whatever we have right now, you know? And...”

His voice trails off. _And what if he doesn't like me back?_

(goddamnit, he does sound like a kindergartener.)

Louise stays silent for a few seconds, then sighs.

“It would be better if you told him, though. You know that, right?”

Her voice is gentle. Dan scuffs the tip of his shoe on the floor.

“Yeah.”

 

  
***

 

  
“Guys, I hate studying.”

“We know,” says Tyler absentmindedly, flipping a page.

“You don't understand, Ty, I really really hate studying.”

“You don't understand, Dan, we really really know,” Phil says, then cracks up.

Dan tries to look angry, and fails. “Spork.”

“Shush,” says Louise mildly, and there's that.

A few minutes of silence, then Phil pipes up, “Guys, what does the word interrobang sound like?”

“A euphemism,” says Tyler without missing a beat.

Dan splutters. “Oh, yeah, like: hey babe, wanna interrobang?” He winks, then shoots finger guns at no one in particular.

Tyler makes a noise between a horrified scream and a groan. Louise ignores them.

Phil laughs, eyes bright. “No - I mean, yes, but it's actually a punctuation mark, did you know that? A combination of the question mark and the exclamation mark, and it means both at the same time.”

“Cool,” Dan comments. He means it. Tyler nods, then returns to his book.

“Yeah, it is, isn't it?” Phil leans forward, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It's not a standard punctuation mark, though - only some typefaces have it. It was actually invented by a guy who wanted rhetorical questions to have their own special punctuation mark, so he combined the question mark and the exclamation mark, and came up with the name interrobang, which is…”

While Dan wasn't exactly expecting to hear about the full history of the, uh, interrobang, he's certainly not complaining - it's more interesting than his law notes, anyhow. So he closes his book and leans forward on his elbows and listens to Phil ramble on and on, revelling in the way Phil's eyes light up whenever he asks a question, stupid as it may sound.

(he thinks he could listen to Phil talk like this all day long.)

(also, the guy is ridiculously adorable when he's excited.)

(he's kind of given up on the repressing-the-crush thing by now, hasn't he?)

“...and, yeah.” Phil finishes, slightly breathless. “It's really cool.”

Dan blinks. “Oh - oh yeah, it is. Nerd,” he adds after a pause, and he winces slightly at the blatant affection seeping through his voice - he himself can hear it, clear as day.

He's beginning to understand what Louise and Tyler are on about.

Phil just giggles, sticking his tongue through his teeth, and Dan’s throat clams up.

In that moment, it seems perfectly natural for him to lean over and ruffle Phil’s hair, to mess it up then press it down again, so he does.

 _Soft_ , he thinks vaguely. Phil's eyes lock onto his, blue onto brown, and for a moment Dan can't breathe.

It takes a second or so before his brain fully catches up to what he's doing, and immediately he feels his cheeks burn.

(fuck fuck shit fuck)

It's with a slightly awkward laugh that he hastily withdraws his hand, breaking eye contact as he does.

Next to him, Phil coughs. Dan stares forcefully at the cover of his law textbook, trying in vain to will away his blush.

(fuckkk. why, Dan, why.)

A moment later, a hand lands on his shoulder. Dan looks up to catch a flash of mischief in Phil's eyes before he finds himself tackled onto the floor, Phil's hand pushing him down.

“Payback,” Phil says before he proceeds to mess Dan’s hair up completely.

Dan can't help it - he starts to laugh, and before long Phil's giggling, too. They stay like that for a while, just laughing at each other's ridiculous hair, before Dan hears a cough from the other side of the flat. He glances over to see Louise hiding a smile, and the blush returns full-force.

“Alright, lovebirds, we’re studying here,” says Tyler lightly. Dan feels himself flush even more. He coughs a little, then he and Phil pull away at the same time. He can tell that Phil's feeling just as embarrassed as himself.

(he's going to have to kill Tyler later.)

The peaceful silence from before returns. Dan struggles to immerse himself into his textbook. The sound of a highlighter moving across paper is amplified in the quiet of the flat.

Half an hour later,

“Guys, I hate studying.”

 

  
***

 

  
It doesn't take long for life to settle back into a comfortable rhythm. After all the, well, drama, Dan is happy just to hear his mother's voice twice a week, even as part of him acknowledges that her calling so often is probably her way of trying to make it up to him. He doesn't mind.

For the first time, it seems that things might actually work out after all.

But while Dan may be feeling significantly less like a pile of moldy biscuits that a dog defecated on these days, the weather doesn't seem to feel the same - in fact, it's doing the complete opposite of reflecting his mood. Apart from a few decent days where the sun decided to make an appearance, the rest of the time has just been total crap weather, which means a lot coming from someone who's always quite liked the rain.

But it's not just rain, it's literal endless sheets of water pelting down from the heavens without any sign of stopping, until all soil in sight has turned into mud that sticks to the soles of Dan's shoes and leaves tracks along the corridor. Coupled with the gusts of wind that send still-green leaves flying everywhere, it means that he gets completely soaked from head to toe whenever he steps outside. Dan thinks he wouldn't mind the weather that much, except for the fact that one: umbrellas or various other rain-combating equipment are all basically rendered useless in this situation, and two: his hair goes back to its natural form whenever it gets wet. 

The first time his friends see it, Tyler bursts into laughter. Dan just stands there in the warmth of the coffee shop, dripping wet and disgruntled.

“My, my,” says Louise, visibly suppressing a smile. “Who would have known that you have curls, Dan?”

Dan groans. “I look like a hobbit, I know. Can we ignore it now?” He slides into the seat next to Louise, wincing at the way his wet clothes squelch on the seat.

“You look like - ” Tyler splutters, then continues laughing. Louise hits him on the arm. “Stop it. Dan looks adorable.”

Phil, not having spoken for the entirety of this exchange, now reaches over and touches one of Dan's curls gently. Immediately, Dan stiffens, feeling a blush rise up his neck.

He holds his breath.

“I like it,” says Phil, slightly abstractedly, still fixated on that one curl. “The hair, I mean. It's quite charming, isn't it?” He tugs lightly, then giggles at the way the curl bounces back. “Cute.”

Dan flushes even more. He bites his lip.

(Phil is really close.)

(like really, really close.)

(there's a freckle underneath his right eye and a smear of coffee powder across his left cheek and - )

Tyler coughs. Dan blinks.

“Oh - er - ”

Phil laughs again, and Dan is so, so gone.

The embarrassment was worth it, he finds himself thinking later, in the quiet of his room. And then he buries his face into his pillow and lets out a muffled scream.

 

***

 

  
Two days later Dan finds himself sprinting through the campus like a lunatic, laptop bag swinging uncomfortably from his shoulder. He looks like a complete mess, and he knows it, but he's too far gone to give a shit right now. It helps that he's thick-skinned enough to ignore all the looks that are being shot at him.

He curses under his breath as he glances at his watch. 9.30am.

He's so dead.

Finally, finally, he reaches the classroom and bursts in, then wishes he hadn't. Every head in the room turns to look at this undignified latecomer, and for a few moments there is silence.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr Howell,” the lecturer says drily, raising an eyebrow before continuing on with the lesson.

Dan's cheeks are on fire as he slides into his seat. One by one, the faces turn back to the lesson, and he breathes a small sigh of relief.

Well, this day had gotten off to a bad start. For some reason, his alarm clock hadn't worked in the morning, and Dan woke up at 9.20am when he had a lecture at 9am that he absolutely couldn't miss, not with the exams looming on the horizon. Louise would kill him if she knew, but aside from that, he absolutely couldn't let his mum down now.

That doesn't mean Dan doesn't lose track of the lesson after a while. As usual, he finds himself staring out of the window about halfway into the lecture, noting the familiar dark clouds that stretch on as far as he can see.

Oh well.

By the time Uni ends for the day, the rain is already pelting down. When Dan glances out of the window again, all he can see is a blurry mess of colours. He sighs, then reaches in his bag for his umbrella.

His hand grasps at empty air, and he freezes.

Shit.

For a few moments he rummages around frantically, then gives up and just dumps the contents of the bag onto his table. Stationery, sweet wrappers, a bottle, a notebook, but no umbrella.

Well, fuck. He must've forgotten to take it with him when he rushed out of his room today. And judging by the way the rain is pouring down, it doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon.

Dan stands there for a few moments, just staring at the overcast sky. He sighs, then zips up his jacket and steps out of the classroom into the rain.

Though an umbrella wouldn't have been much help, it would at least have prevented him from getting soaked so fast. By the time he reaches his hall, half-sprinting all the way, he's shivering and dripping water all over the place.

So of course, with his crappy luck, he falls sick.

Dan wakes up the next day with a splitting headache and a familiar heaviness in his bones. It takes him a while to sit up properly, and even then he winces at the jolt of dizziness the action sends through him.

He's sick, he realises a few moments later. His mind feels fuzzy, like his head’s been stuffed with cotton wool, and it takes him a while to fully formulate the thought in his mind. He's sick, properly sick, the type of stay-at-home-and-watch-tv sick, the type he hadn't been since he came to university, unless you count mild headaches and coughs, which Dan certainly doesn't. This feels way worse.

Oh god, this feels so much worse.

He lifts a hand to rub at his eyes, then reaches out for his phone. It's already mid-morning, he notes as he opens up the messaging app to find a text from one of his classmates - Jason, the contact says.

_From: Jason_

_Dude, where are u??? Want me to take notes for u?_

He blinks, then types out a reply.

_To: Jason_

_sick. yeah, that'd be great, thanks_

He sets his phone face-down on his bedside table, then collapses onto the bed once more, pulling the duvet over him. He squeezes his eyes closed, pressing his palms against the sheets.

When Dan wakes up again, it's past noon, and the rain is still pouring down. The throbbing at his temples has ceased somewhat, but it's still there, and his nose feels awful - no, scratch that, every part of him feels awful right now. He wonders vaguely if he has medication somewhere, then remembers that the only pills he had were painkillers, and he'd run out of them about two weeks ago.

Dan sighs, running a hand through his hair. It's fine, he probably just needs to sleep it off. A good nap makes all the difference, was what his grandma always said, wasn't it? Yeah, he’ll be fine.

Just then, his phone lights up with a new notification, and he looks over.

_From: Ty the Coolest_

_Heard you were sick? Take care, mate, get well soon :(_

Dan chuckles a little to himself. Tyler's mysterious sources of knowledge never failed to astound him. Of course he would know.

_To: Ty the Coolest_

_yeah, thanks. currently feeling like shit_

He opens up the next message in his inbox, smiling.

_From: Louise (Mum)_

_Ty said you were sick? Are you feeling okay? Do you have meds? Have you gone to see the doctor?_

_To: Louise (Mum)_

_don't worry, i’m okay, i just need to sleep it off_

The last one’s from Phil. Dan opens it up, used to the way his heart skips a beat by now.

_From: Philly_

_Hey, u ok?_

He smiles.

_To: Philly_

_yeah, i think. everything kind of aches. maybe it's the flu_

_From: Philly_

_Hang on, class just ended_

Dan squints at the screen, confused. After a few moments, he types out a question mark in response.

Phil doesn't reply, so Dan puts the phone away. He gets up and drags himself to the toilet outside his room, ignoring the way his body cries in protest.

A few splashes of water on the face seems to clear away the cobwebs in his mind, even if it's just temporarily. He shuffles back to his room, noticing too late that he's still in his pyjamas. He's thankful that there's no one else here in the corridor at the moment - it would be embarrassing if a neighbouring student saw him in this state.

Dan sits down at his bed, then opens up his laptop. He's barely started typing anything onto his law assignment document before his eyes slide shut. He blinks furiously to stay awake, but it doesn't take long before he's dozing off.

 _Knock_.

The sound jolts Dan awake, and he sighs. Mind still fuzzy, he forces himself to get up and walk towards the door. Either someone knocked on the wrong door, or there was some stuff he needed to fill in, or maybe…

He opens the door to see Phil standing there, eyes wide and unblinking.

Dan squints. “Phil?”

He's holding a bag, Dan notes. And his hair is kind of a mess and his glasses are a little lopsided but wow, Dan thinks hazily. Wow.

(how does Phil look this good all the time?)

“Uh,” the person in question says, shifting his feet. “Are you feeling better?” He holds up the bag awkwardly in Dan’s direction, and something inside clinks.

Oh, Dan thinks.

“Not really,” he says honestly. “It's been kind of a crappy day.” He motions for Phil to come in, then closes the door behind him.

It's as if Phil’s presence in his room has suddenly cleared all the haze in his mind. Dan is suddenly painfully aware of how terrible he looks, and also the fact that his room is a mess. He surreptitiously kicks a sock to the corner, then runs a hand through his hair. Of course, it does nothing to solve his massive bedhead problem.

Phil, though, seems to relax once he steps in. He kicks off his shoes, revealing one red sock and one blue sock, and Dan can't help but smile a little.

“So,” Phil says, setting the bag of clinky stuff down onto the table. “What's your temperature? Have you taken it?”

Dan laughs, sitting down on his bed. “No, Mum.” His tone grows sheepish. “I actually lost my thermometer a few weeks back, so, yeah.”

Phil grins. “Guessed that. Here, check if you have a fever,” and he reaches into his bag and tosses something over to Dan.

Dan barely catches it. “Jesus Christ, Phil - wait,” he squints at the box, “you got me a thermometer?”

“Yeah,” says Phil, leaning down and rummaging in his bag. The tips of his ears are ever-so-slightly red. “And pills as well, for general flu symptoms, and painkillers, and oh, tomato soup, cause that's like, the best thing to eat when you're sick, and - ”

There are a million thoughts running through Dan’s mind right now, and he can't decide which one to voice first. Instead, he leans back against the wall and lets an undeniably dopey grin spread across his face.

(ah, this guy.)

“Phil,” he interrupts the rambling, and as Phil looks up with his classic deer-in-the-headlights look, Dan feels his heart melt a little more, “you got all this for me?”

Phil ducks his head a little, and oh yeah, he's definitely blushing now. “Well, you're sick, so…”

Dan just - okay, Dan turns into a pile of mush right there and then, though he's fighting hard not to show it. It's such an incredibly sweet gesture, even if Phil only means it platonically, to come over and care for your grown-ass friend when he's ill. It's just - it's such a Phil thing to do.

Dan places a hand over his heart and tries to tone down his smile. “Thanks, Phil.”

Phil smiles, small and quick, then looks away. Dan feels warm all over.

“You'll need to have food first before you eat some of those pills, so...there's a microwave somewhere here, right?”

“Yeah, there's one at the end of the corridor, at the pantry.” He hasn't been there in a while.

“Alright, I'll go find it. Go lie down or something, you need your rest. I'll wake you up when it's ready.”

“Jeez, you're such a mother hen,” Dan teases, sticking the thermometer in his mouth. He pulls out his laptop from under the duvet, but he's just opened up the Google document when Phil looks over.

“No, Dan, no doing work.” He strides over and pulls the laptop away from Dan, closing it gently. Dan glares at him, but doesn't protest - it's not like he can speak with the thermometer hanging out of his mouth anyway. Just then, it beeps, so he pulls it out.

“39.5 degrees.”

“See? You should rest. Go to sleep.”

“I've been sleeping nearly the whole day,” Dan whines, just for the sake of whining. The rain pelts on in the background, a constant hum of noise.

“Nope, not enough,” Phil says, smiling. “Just lie down, Dan.”

So he does. Meanwhile Phil sets about putting the kettle on, humming a little - Toxic by Britney Spears, Dan thinks - and searching through Dan's room for a bowl to put the soup in. The image is impossibly endearing: Phil walking around in his mismatched socks and slightly crooked glasses like he belongs here, in Dan’s room, in Dan’s life, and…

“Dan.”

He opens his eyes to see Phil sitting on the chair next to the bed, holding a bowl in his hands. The smile on his face is warm and fond, and it sends flutters to Dan’s stomach.

He scrambles to sit up, wincing at the dull ache in his head, and the expression on Phil’s face changes to one of worry and concern.

“Still bad?”

He manages a croak. “Yeah.”

“Drink this, you'll feel better. My grandma used to make that all the time when I fell sick.”

“Aww, that's cute.” He accepts the bowl gratefully, warmth seeping through his palms.

It's good, better than canned tomato soup should be - but then, Phil does manage to make everything taste good, doesn't he?

He finishes the soup, then takes a few pills and a mug of tea from Phil.

“Wow, high class service, huh? I feel pampered.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile.

 

  
***

 

  
After gulping down the pills, Dan manages to convince Phil that he's able to do work (“I'm not six, Phil, I'm an adult - well, sort of,”) and they settle into a comfortable silence. Dan sits on his bed and leans against the wall, working on his essay, while Phil sits in the chair, preoccupied with his own laptop.

It all seems so perfectly normal, Dan thinks. Perfectly natural, to have Phil in his room with two mugs of tea on the table and the rain pattering on in the background and the wind whooshing against the window every now and then. The… _rightness_ of it all is something that Dan can't deny, and it brings a flickering warmth to Dan's chest. He doesn't know why.

(he doesn't he doesn't he doesn't.)

(he does.)

When Dan wakes up again - how the hell did he manage to fall asleep? Must be the drugs - it's to the sound of Phil’s voice, low and lilting. It takes Dan a while to realise that Phil’s talking on the phone - Dan's phone, apparently.

He sits up, blinks away the bleariness in his eyes. Phil looks over from the other side of the room.

“Yes - uh, he's awake now, so - ” Phil breaks off, then laughs a little, “yeah, I'll give him the phone.”

Dan takes it, shooting Phil a questioning look. Phil just shrugs, offering a smile and mouthing the words “your mum”. Oh.

“Hey, Mum - ”

He's interrupted by a rapid stream of concerned questions pouring into his ear. Wincing, he holds the phone a distance away, exchanging a look with Phil that can only be described as the universal “parents. I know, right?” look.

“I'm fine, Mum. Just a bit sick, is all. Phil's been taking care of me.” He can't resist glancing over at Phil as he says this, and he feels oddly gratified to see the hint of a blush on Phil's cheeks.

“Oh - that boy was Phil, was he? Quite a nice boy, yes. Are you sure you're feeling okay, though? Better miss school tomorrow.”

“I can't, it's exam season.”

Wait. What?

The phone goes silent for a while, then his mother chuckles. “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

“Uh - ”

“It's probably Phil's influence on you, isn't it? I'm glad.” She pauses. “You two are friends, right? Is he cute?”

“Mum!” No matter how ecstatic Dan is about his mother accepting him for who he is, he most definitely does not want her to get involved in his (nonexistent) love life. Nevertheless, he can't help but smile a little, even as his cheeks flame.

Phil watches him, eyes bright with mirth and something like affection. Dan tries not to think about it too much.

His mother laughs. “Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your own business now, okay? Rest well, drink more water, eat less unhealthy stuff, you know what I mean. Love you.”

“Love you,” Dan replies on reflex, then hangs up.

He looks over at Phil, and Phil looks over at him, then for some reason they start giggling, then full out laughing.

“What did she say to you? She said something!” Dan half-screeches, whacking Phil in the face with his pillow as Phil screams and ducks. “I know she did! She definitely did!”

“She - ” Phil pauses, “You know, why should I be telling you? This will make such good blackmail material.”

“I have a right to know!”

“No you don't - ” Dan raises his eyebrows, and Phil laughs. “You're not allowed to go all law student on me! Not after I - hey!”

Dan flips to a page and reads aloud, “According to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, every human being - ”

“No no no no no - ” Phil says, snatching the book away and placing it firmly down on the table. “No. No law today.”

Dan laughs. The UDHR isn't actually a legitimate set of laws, but Phil doesn't need to know that.

“You're one to talk, Lester - you nerd out on us about grammar or other linguistics shit all the time, and now you won't let me mention my own major? Frick off,” but he's grinning now, and so is Phil.

“That's different!” Again, Dan raises his eyebrows, but Phil barrels on before Dan can speak, “Also, I've been - what was it - _taking care of you_ for the past four hours! I deserve some sort of - some sort of…”

Phil’s eyes are really nice, Dan notes. They're blue and green and yellow at the same time, but also so much more, like sunlight mixed with ocean water, or perhaps stained glass in a church window -

“...compensation,” Phil finishes, voice soft. It's only then that Dan realises how close he's been leaning in, how close their faces are.

Perhaps the regular Dan would have jumped back immediately, coughing and spluttering and changing the subject, but for some reason Dan now finds himself rooted to the spot. There's something that's keeping him there - maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's how woozy he feels right now, or maybe it's just how everything feels in this moment, as if the whole world has been put on pause and everything is suspended in the air except for the two of them.

Involuntarily, his eyes flick downwards to Phil's lips, then up again.

Phil swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes seem to shimmer in the light.

Dan bites his lip. He takes a breath, then -

 _Ding_.

The moment snaps, like a taut string cut in two. Phil looks down into his lap, where his phone has lit up with a notification, and Dan tears his eyes away.

He's pretty sure his face is as red as a tomato. A quick glance at Phil tells Dan that Phil's blushing, too, pale skin tinted with pink as he determinedly stares down at his phone.

The silence stretches on for a beat longer.

They both look up at the same time.

“Dan - ”

“Phil - ”

There's a pause, then they break off into laughter. A part of Dan, the part that's freaking out and going, _shit_ _you_ _ruined_ _everything_ _shit_ _shit_ _shit_ , breathes a small sigh of relief.

“I - I kind of have to go now, so…” Phil says, waving his phone a bit helplessly.

Dan swallows. “Yeah, okay.” He pauses. “Thanks for, y’know, all this.”

Phil nods and offers a small smile, one that reaches his eyes, for which Dan is glad.

“Eat your meds, and rest, and get well soon, okay?”

“Yup, I will. Honestly, you're probably even more of a mum than Louise.”

Phil laughs, and Dan relaxes. “So, uh...bye?”

“Bye,” Dan says.

And then Phil's gone.

Dan waits for two seconds before he buries his face into his pillow and groans.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more stuff happens (yay!)

 

“Mum?”

“...”

“Yeah, he's cute.”

 

  
***

 

  
Dan spends the next few days holed up in his room, fretting and worrying and - yes, procrastinating.

To tell the truth, he has no idea what's going to happen now - or rather, he has no idea how he's going to face Phil. He really doesn't know what possessed him in that moment - all he knows is that suddenly Phil was too close for his sanity, and he couldn't find it in himself to pull away. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be sat here in his room quietly freaking out.

Because something had happened. Something mind-blowing had happened, in those few seconds that felt like an eternity. They'd nearly kissed. They had a moment, for fuck’s sake, a _moment_ where they were the only two people in the entire universe.

Dan couldn't have been the only one who felt it. He _couldn't_.

But what if he was?

He remembers how Phil looked like in that moment, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly parted. He remembers the red tint on Phil's cheeks, the flusteredness that followed after the sound of the notification broke the silence. But he also remembers the deliberate avoidance of eye contact, and the way Phil left in a hurry barely minutes after.

Dan's been spending a lot of time either staring at the ceiling or screaming into his pillow these days.

The only thing that's keeping him sane is the semi-normal conversation they managed to have before Phil left. It's a reassurance, of sorts, that things aren't that bad and their friendship isn't in tatters after what Dan tried to do - because yes, Dan was the one that lost control of himself, and he has no one else to blame but himself if he and Phil end up no longer friends because of this.

(it probably wouldn't happen - Phil's too nice.)

(but...what if?)

(oh god, he wouldn't be able to handle it.)

This is why he hates crushes, Dan thinks. Because they have the potential to ruin friendships, to ruin lives, and yet he feels weird whenever he goes a few days without seeing them.

Or maybe the last one’s just Phil.

So when Louise declares an official “day-of-rest” on Saturday and Tyler immediately leaps at the opportunity to suggest a long-awaited Mario Kart session, Dan agrees a little too quickly. They arrange to meet at the coffee shop first, grab drinks, then head to Tyler's flat together.

 _See you!_ Phil texts to the group chat, and Dan thinks he's maybe never felt this scared in his entire life.

The walk to the coffee shop is short and silent. Dan presses down apprehension and anticipation and a bunch of other emotions that he can't figure out, takes a deep breath and pushes open the wooden door.

He sees three familiar heads at the corner booth, takes another deep breath, and walks over.

Louise is the first to notice him. She waves, and the other two turn around.

“Hey Dan!”

“Hey,” he replies distractedly, eyes landing on Phil.

(please look up please look up _please_ )

A moment later, Phil does, and Dan’s breath constricts in his throat for one terrible second before Phil’s face blossoms into a warm smile.

 _It's fine._ He tilts his head to the side. _I know we both know, but...we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to?_

Dan exhales, runs a hand through his hair, and smiles back, buoyed by the emotions swelling in his chest.

_Okay._

Tyler says something about the latest Cards Against Humanity addition then, and Dan allows himself to get sucked into the conversation. Phil meets his eyes again, and Dan finds himself grinning at Phil, almost giddy with relief.

Phil flashes him a quick smile, bumping their shoulders together, and Dan knows that everything's going to be fine.

He doesn't miss the odd look Louise throws them, but he ignores it as best as he can.

 

  
***

 

  
Mario Kart is awesome, as usual. Dan wrecks them all easily and crowns himself the ultimate champion, earning himself three sets of exasperated eye-rolls. He doesn't mind, though, especially when he sees the small fond smile that Phil doesn't bother to hide.

“Alright, alright,” says Louise, letting the controller drop onto the sofa. “We admit defeat.”

Dan smirks. “Finally.”

“There has to be something you aren't good at,” Tyler says - or rather, whines. “Anyone has any ideas? I want to see Dan lose for once.”

Dan sticks out his bottom lip.

There's a short silence, before Phil pipes up, “Well, there's this game…”

“Yeah?”

“It's not competitive, more like a relaxing sort of game - you know what, I'll just show it to you.” Phil pauses, then looks around for his phone.

“There,” Tyler helpfully supplies, pointing to the table next to the sofa arm.

“Ah - okay, thanks.”

The next few seconds feel like a hallucination, Dan thinks. Till now, he's still not entirely sure that the whole thing happened.

What happens is that Phil stretches out his hand and leans across Dan to get the phone, so Dan suddenly has a lapful of Phil that he has no idea what to do with. What happens is that Phil's hair tickles the base of Dan's chin, and it feels baby-soft and fluffy and makes Dan want to _touch_. What happens is that Dan can suddenly smell freshly-brewed coffee and late September sunlight and the scent of warm.

The moment passes as soon as it arrives. Phil grabs his phone, then moves back to his original position. Dan is left frozen to his seat, as red like a tomato and slightly dizzy.

He swears he catches the tail-end of a smirk before Phil straightens up fully, and the fact only serves to daze him more.

“Dan?” Tyler sounds like he's trying not to laugh.

Dan blinks. “Oh - uh - sorry.” He coughs, then flaps a hand. “Uh - go on.”

Phil looks at him, eyes bright with something like mischief, and all of a sudden all Dan can think about is -

Louise clears her throat. Dan blinks again, then wrenches his eyes away.

(ugh. Dan, get a grip.)

(get. a. fucking. grip.)

He manages to stay relatively sane for the next few minutes as Phil explains the game. It seems cute: take care of a virtual chick, feed it, make sure it's clean, all the usual stuff. They all crowd around Phil as the web page loads, and music starts to play.

“Here - Dan, you should control it, you're the only one who hasn't played it before.”

Dan nods, slightly bewildered, and takes hold of the phone. Then he stops, suspicious. “Wait, really?”

“Yep,” the three of them chorus. “It's a really relaxing game,” Tyler adds. “Cheerful, fun, that sort.”

Dan throws them all a skeptical look, but he clicks start anyway.

“Aww, what name should we call it?”

“Tweety?” Tyler suggests.

“Unoriginal, but sure.”

“Give him anime eyes!”

“Him? You're assuming genders there, Phil - ”

“That hair - that's snazzy, and a bow tie!”

“Okay, now feed Tweety - he's eating the paper as well, I can't decide if that's cute or horrifying - ”

“Look at his happy face!” Louise coos.

“I think he needs a shower, see the bar there?”

“Uh huh, okay - why does he hate showering?”

“I mean - same, really - ”

“Football!” Phil points to the icon on the screen.

“How do you - oh, I see.”

There's a short silence as Dan bops the ball back and forth.

“I love this game,” Tyler sighs.

Dan makes a noncommittal noise of agreement.

“Dan he's going to die if you don't feed him soon - ”

“Okay, okay - here you go, little buddy.”

“I wish I had a pet.”

“I'd love a dog,” Louise says. “Any dog, really. I would adopt one if I could.”

“Don't we all.”

“I used to have a hamster, and she died, so I'm not sure if I can ever handle having a pet again.”

There's a short silence as they all turn to look at Phil.

“She had a few babies before she died, though,” he adds, holding up a finger. “We gave them away to my neighbour because I spent the entire week mourning Phoebe’s death and crying that the baby hamsters looked too much like her.”

Again, silence. Dan gets the feeling that Phil is trying very hard not to laugh, and Tyler and Louise are just so used to this kind of thing that they've given up on responding.

“Well, that was nice,” Dan finally says. He can't help the smile that's curling at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for the cool story, bro.” He afflicts an American accent almost by habit.

“No problem, mate,” Phil fires back almost immediately in a godawful Australian accent, then nearly falls over giggling. Dan has to struggle to press down his laughter, shoulders shaking.

There's a sigh - two loud and simultaneous sighs, in fact, coming from the both sides of the sofa. Dan looks up from the screen to see Tyler and Louise sharing a look that speaks volumes, and he feels his cheeks colour.

“Um, well - ” he turns back to the screen, where Tweety is happily chirping at nothing in particular. “Why is he constantly so hungry? I swear, his food level drains nearly every ten seconds.”

“Probably because you keep playing football with it,” Tyler points out.

“Try clicking on that bicycle,” says Phil. “You can get him to exercise, too.”

So Dan clicks.

A split second later, he's screaming bloody murder and the phone has clattered to the floor and the others are quite literally rolling on the floor laughing.

“Your face,” Tyler splutters, gasping for air. Phil leans on Dan’s shoulder and starts hitting him repeatedly as he half chortles, half apologises. Louise just lies on her back and clutches at her stomach.

Dan just stares at them, wide-eyed. He's completely lost for words, a fact that Tyler gleefully points out.

He only manages to regain his voice a minute later.

“Fucking hell.”

Phil giggles.

“I - oh my god. I don't know what to say. This game is - wow.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Rest in peace, Tweety,” Tyler chimes in. “Or rather, rest in pieces. Get it?”

“That was horri - ”

“Oh god. Tweety.” Dan says. “Oh god, Tweety. Tweety!” His voice starts to rise, higher and higher with every word till he's practically screeching. Phil winces and covers his ears. “How could - nooo! Tweety! You were so well-bathed! You - ”

“Stop.” Phil giggles, leaning over and covering Dan’s mouth with his hand. Dan falls silent immediately, distracted by the warmth of Phil's palm. It's gone in another second, and Dan blinks, slightly disoriented.

(what's happening?)

“I hate you all,” he manages to say a moment later. “Especially - wait. Did you agree on using this to prank me?”

“No,” says Louise. “It was Phil. We didn't talk about anything beforehand, right, Tyler?”

“Yep,” Tyler agrees, then bursts into raucous laughter.

“Okay, then I hate Phil.” Dan says decidedly. “Philip Michael Lester, you are a sadist, and I hate you.”

(he doesn't. quite the opposite, in fact.)

Phil pouts, then starts to giggle again. His tongue sticks out between his teeth, and his eyes are sparkling, and there's a slight rosy tint on his cheeks from laughing too hard and - fuck, Dan can't even pretend to be mad at him.

This is ridiculous, he thinks hopelessly. This is completely and utterly ridiculous.

(goddamnit, he's so fucked, isn't he?)

 

  
***

 

  
When the exams arrive at last, it's as if a heavy blanket of silence has been draped over the entire campus. Dan no longer gets woken up by partygoers clacking about in the corridors late at night, nor does he hear the familiar hum of excited chatter whenever he goes. The only occasional spurts of noise are when one exam ends - everyone cheers and discusses the paper for a brief period of time before they all head back to their rooms to cram, and the silence returns.

Dan doesn't see the others throughout this entire period - he's pretty sure everyone's well and fully immersed into the exam-rush, as he likes to call it. Because of this the group chat is left neglected for a few days in a row, and Dan finds himself missing that familiar _ding_ when left alone in the silence of his room. He's taken to scrolling through old messages before he goes to bed - it's sort of like revisiting old memories, and it never fails to make him smile.

It seems like hardly any time at all before the exams are over, and suddenly Dan’s clutching his result slip, heart pounding in his ears.

He doesn't quite dare to flip it open. Around him, there's yelling and laughing and even some mock-sobbing, but Dan remains silent.

After a moment, he stuffs the paper into his bag and leaves the classroom. He'll look at it later, he tells himself. He'll look at it when he's worked up the courage to.

He's barely stepped out when his phone lights up with the first new notification in ages. He pulls it from his pocket a little too fast to be considered casual, and squints at the screen.

_From: Philly_

_Exams over!!! U coming over? First day back at work :P_

Dan smiles, then tucks his phone back into his pocket. The sun greets him from behind a cloud as he heads towards the coffee shop, and it brings a bounce to his footsteps.

The bell tinkles as usual as he pushes the door open, and instantly Dan's hit by the aroma of coffee. He takes a deep breath, glances at the sign.

_It may be spring for the rest of us, but for the Uni students, what season is it?_

_The exam season! (wish us luck!)_

Dan stares at the sign for a second, then chuckles a little and steps in.

As usual, his eyes immediately land on that familiar head of black hair. As usual, he lets the familiar warmth envelop him, lets it take away his breath.

“Dan!” Phil looks up, smiling.

And just like that he's grinning like a fool. “Hey Phil,” he responds, trying to tone down the excitement in his voice.

(after all, it has been more than a week since they saw each other. so...it's a perfectly normal reaction, really.)

(oh, Dan, come on.)

He watches as Phil says something to the girl behind the counter, who smiles, then hits him on the arm playfully. Phil smiles a little awkwardly, then steps away, untying his apron.

Dan's smile fades. Something sours in his gut.

_Who is she?_

Phil waves him over, then, so Dan shakes the thought off. He hesitates before pushing open the counter gate, but Phil pulls him through.

“Esme doesn't want us taking up the seats,” he says, gesturing at the crowded shop. The other hand lands on the small of Dan's back, and Dan very quietly sucks in a breath. “Want to go to the back? I've never showed it to you before.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. From the corner of his eye, he sees the smile drop from the girl's face as her gaze travels from Dan to Phil, and she looks away.

 _Ha._ Dan smirks inwardly, letting the wave of triumph wash over him.

Then he mentally kicks himself for the ridiculousness of it all.

Phil brings him to a small room, white walls and tiled floor lined with various sacks and boxes, then proceeds to close the door and scrabble around about half a minute for a light switch.

“Sorry - ah, there!”

Dan lets a laugh escape as the room fills with light. “It's fine.”

“This is our storage room, in case you haven't noticed,” Phil says, gesturing. “It's where the employees take a break sometimes - anyway, make yourself at home!” He sinks down on one of the sacks, letting out a sigh of relief, so Dan does the same.

There's a moment of silence, then Phil sits up properly, eyes bright. “How did you do for your exams?”

Dan furrows his brow, then remembers the results slip. “Oh. I haven't seen it yet, actually - as in, I haven't dared to see it yet.”

There's a spark of understanding in Phil's eyes, and Dan relaxes a little. He reaches into his bag and pulls out the folded piece of paper, gripping it tight.

“I still can't look, actually. Oh god - I literally can't look. What if it's - ”

“Dan,” Phil interrupts, chuckling. “Take a breath.”

Dan exhales. “You know what, could you help me look instead?” He holds out the paper to Phil - it's a bit crumpled by now, and Dan winces a little.

Phil shrugs. “Yeah, sure.” He takes the paper and unfolds it, glancing down the page.

“Hmm…”

Dan holds his breath.

“Well…”

Dan looks up to see Phil pretending to squint at the piece of paper in his hand, holding it ridiculously close to his face. He splutters out a laugh.

“What are you doing?” Fondness seeps into his voice like honey, and he doesn't bother trying to stop it - there's no one else around to hear, anyhow.

“I can't see the words,” Phil says distantly. “The words are too small, I - ”

“Stop,” Dan says, trying not to laugh. He leans over and hits Phil on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Phiiiiiiil…”

Phil giggles. “Okay, okay, I'll stop. You did really great! Look!”

Dan grabs the paper. “Really?”

He scans the results, letting out a surprised laugh.

“I - I didn't do that badly, did I? Oh wow.”

“You did fantastic,” Phil says, grinning. “Nice job.” Dan can hear the sincerity in his words, and it makes him smile.

“Thanks,” he says.

Phil shoots him a smile, then leans over and pokes Dan's cheek for seemingly no reason at all. Dan nearly chokes, face flushing bright red, and Phil laughs.

“I did much worse when I was in my first year, you know that? I didn't study at all. In fact I don't think I even thought about the exams until the actual day of the exams.”

“Why, because you hadn't met Louise?” Dan teases.

“Well - yeah,” Phil says, chuckling. “And also because I didn't think the first year mattered at all, but it did, in a way. It's kind of a stepping stone, y’know? Especially the end of year exams, they're pretty important.”

Dan hums in agreement. Then he smiles.

“Look at you, Mr Third-year, giving advice to a junior about exams, of all things. Who would have thought?”

It's kind of true, actually - he's not just kidding around. He's never really thought of Phil as a senior before - or Tyler and Louise, for that matter - they had always been his friends, first and foremost. If Dan was being honest, he'd forgotten about their age differences a while ago.

Phil giggles again, tongue poking through his teeth, and shoves at Dan.

“Shut up.”

“You wish.”

“Wow, Dan - didn't someone just say that I was a senior? How dare you disrespect your elders like this? I'm offended.”

Dan splutters. “Well - you - your mum's an elder.”

There's a short pause as the words sink in, and then they both burst into laughter.

“That doesn't even make sense!”

“It does - your mum’s old, see? So she's an elder!”

“What an insult,” says Phil. “I'm impressed.”

Dan responds by shoving his fingers into Phil’s sides and tickling his ribs. Phil immediately splutters and rolls over onto his side, laughing helplessly.

“Stop! Oh my god - Dan, please stop stop stop stop - ”

Dan grins, then pulls his fingers away, making a show of brushing nonexistent dust off his hands.

“Peasant. You are beneath me.”

Phil sits up, still panting. “I'll get you back one day. I promise. Watch out, Danny boy.”

“Oooh, watch out,” Dan mocks, before he's being tackled to the floor in one swift motion. “Hey!”

Phil pins Dan down with one hand, the other coming to rest at the side of his head. For a moment, Dan’s breath catches - they are so close, too close, way too fucking close - and then Phil smirks and reaches down and digs his fingers into Dan’s ribs.

“What the - oi!”

Dan's instinctive reaction is to curl up into a ball and start swatting at the tickler’s hands, but it's to no avail. Phil doesn't stop tickling, and he doesn't stop giggling either, and before long the shock wears off and Dan's laughing too - a “You are a bastard and I hate you” kind of laugh.

He manages to writhe away after a while, and Phil rocks back on his heels, still chuckling.

“Phil! That was horrible!”

“I'm sorry,” Phil chokes out in the midst of his laughter. “I'm sorry, I apologise.”

“That was mean!” Dan says. He shifts closer to Phil and sticks his finger into Phil’s face, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the massive grin on his face.

“You, Phil Lester, are a meanie.”

Phil just smirks again, and Dan’s heart flips over in his chest. He swallows.

“Well,” Phil says, shifting even closer, “yes, but admit it - you love me.”

Dan looks over at Phil, with his mussed hair and crooked grin, and doesn't even think before he replies.

“Yeah, I do.” He punctuates the sentence with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, and Phil laughs.

It's not until much later at night, when Dan is replaying the day's conversation in his head and smiling at the ceiling - he's been doing that quite a lot, lately - that the full realisation of what he said hits him.

He sits up in the middle of the bed, head spinning.

_What?_

“What?” He says aloud. The word hangs in the silence of the room. Outside, a cricket chirps.

Could he…

“No,” he says. “No, of course not.”

The screen of his laptop stares unblinkingly back at him. Dan runs a hand through his hair.

Again, “No, I'm not.” He squeezes out a chuckle at the absurdity of the notion, but the laugh sounds fake even to his own ears.

He isn't in love with Phil, he isn't. A crush is one thing - infatuation, attraction, the eruption of butterflies when you see them, the giddy excitement of spending time with them. Dan fully admits to feeling all of these regarding Phil - he has a huge crush on the guy, plain and simple, but it just - it just hasn't worn out yet, that's all. He's sure it will soon.

Love, Dan thinks, is a whole other story. Love is commitment and forever and wedding rings and being in the centre of the other person's universe. Love is something that spans lifetimes and encompasses galaxies and - no.

No. Dan can't be in love with Phil. He can't.

(please.)

It's just a crush. A massive fucking crush, yes, but it isn't love.

“I'm not in love with Phil,” he says to his laptop. It doesn't respond.

“I’m not,” he insists, then exhales. “I can't be, you understand? The crush is bad enough - especially whenever Phil goes and touches me so casually, or leans closer and says something teasing or flirty - oh god. It's hard enough to not spontaneously combust on the spot, you know? Do you have any idea how much more complicated things would be if I'm in love with him? So I can't be. You understand?”

The laptop screen stares at him for a moment longer, then it fades to black.

Dan sits there in the darkness for a moment longer, then sighs and starts rummaging about for his charger. He finds it in his sock drawer for some reason, and sighs again.

(what was he doing? talking to himself?)

(his laptop? his pillow?)

(jesus christ, Dan. as if you could get any weirder.)

He plugs in his laptop, then sets his alarm clock for 9am the next day before crawling into bed, wincing at the way the springs creak under his weight. He turns on his side, shifting so he gets a clear view of the night sky.

The stars aren't out tonight, he notes. There's nothing but a few clouds drifting about, and the occasional glimpse of moonlight. If Dan listens hard enough, he can hear pounding music and yelling and loud, raucous laughter in the distance.

It takes him a long time to get to sleep that night. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flamingos + alcohol + stars

There are flamingos dancing all around him, among the trees. They flit in and out of sight, ducking behind the leaves every so often before reappearing again in front of him.

He walks closer. They're singing, he realises. Or maybe squawking would be a better word. Either way, he vaguely recognises the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody, and then suddenly he's dancing along too, in perfect sync with the flamingos.

He's enjoying himself. He looks down to see pink feathers everywhere, and he thinks that he quite likes the colour. It's not too bad.

_Beep._

A flamingo grabs him by the hand (how?) and spins him around. He twirls. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a briefcase with a timer on it. It says five seconds, so he relaxes. Five seconds is plenty of time, he thinks.

_Beep._

Four seconds left. The flamingos pirouette. Dan tries, and flops on his face instead.

_Beep._

Three seconds. Dan looks up to see a wall of fire approaching from the trees. It's quite beautiful, he thinks. Orange and red and yellow, like a dragon’s breath.

_Beep._

Two seconds. Why are all the flamingos running away? He tries to call out to them, to ask them to stay and watch the fire with him, but he can't find his voice.

_Beep._

One second. He watches, entranced, as the fire blows by him and catches up with the pack of flamingos. Some of their feathers catch on fire, and they squawk hysterically, hopping everywhere. He wonders vaguely if they're overreacting. Is there a code of conduct for this sort of situation?

_Beep._

Oh, he realises. Flaming flamingos. That's a nice pun! He'll have to tell it to Phil some time or other.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Why is the timer still beeping? Dan glances over, then realises that the briefcase is nowhere to be found. Was it all a dream? Did it ever exist in the first place? Did the flamingos exist? Where did the fire go? Does he himself exist? Why is he thinking all of this?

_Beep._

Alarm clock, some part of his brain helpfully supplies.

Alarm clock. Not timer. Not briefcase. Alarm clock.

Oh.

He struggles to open his eyes as he gropes around for the source of the noise. Once it shuts up, he closes his eyes again and turns on his side, snuggling back down into the comfortable warmth of his blankets. Unfortunately, he is very rudely roused by several rays of sunlight directly shining into his eyes, so he has no choice but to open them.

“Ugh,” he grumbles, throwing an arm over his face.

In the end, he only gets up because of his sudden remembrance that the exams are over. He's not gonna lie, the fact makes him insanely happy, especially since he knows he did a good job.

He picks up his phone from the bedside table and smiles to himself. Forty new messages from the group chat is quite a good way to start a day. He swipes up to see Tyler's incessant yelling about the exams being over, and a few amused messages from Phil and Louise.

_Ty the Coolest: LETS CELEBRATE_

_Ty the Coolest: GET THE ALCOHOL_

_Ty the Coolest: AND THE DRUGS_

_Ty the Coolest: AND THE MUSIC_

_Ty the Coolest: WE HAVE TO PARTY BEFORE THE WEEKEND IS OVER_

_Louise (Mum): My eyes are hurting Tyler stop_

_Ty the Coolest: THE EXAMS ARE OVEE WHY ARENT YOU HAPPY_

_Louise (Mum): I ammm but there's no need for caps_

_Ty the Coolest: okay sorry mum_

_Philly: *laughing emoji*_

_Ty the Coolest: Wait is dan old enough to drink_

_Philly: Yes_

_Louise (Mum): …_

_Ty the Coolest: YES_

Dan smiles, then types out a reply.

_danhowl: when are we meeting? u know, for the *side eyes emoji*_

_Louise (Mum): Are we really going to do this?_

_Ty the Coolest: OH DAN YOURE AWAKE HI_

_Ty the Coolest: cmon lou_

_Philly: Yeah, its tradish_

_Philly: Not the drugs I mean_

_Philly: you know what I mean_

_danhowl: wow i had no idea_

_Louise (Mum): ……_

_Louise (Mum): Yeah fine_

_Ty the Coolest: GREAT_

 

  
***

 

“I refuse to be held responsible for anything that goes wrong from this point onward.”

Tyler snorts. “You say this every year, Lou.”

“It's part of the tradition,” Phil whispers to Dan. He nods mock-thoughtfully in response.

“And anyway, it's not like we're getting, like trashed or anything,” Tyler continues. “It's just a regular evening! With - well, with the added element of alcohol.”

Louise sighs. “After dinner. Only after dinner.”

Tyler grins. “Deal.” The two of them lock eyes for a moment, then start giggling. Dan can't say he's surprised.

“Another tradition?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Dan’s not stupid - well, not very, at least - he knows that Phil and Tyler and Louise have been friends for a long time before he arrived at Uni. He couldn't be any more grateful for their easy acceptance of him into their group, though he knows that Phil is the only reason why he's sitting in Tyler's flat today - but no matter how well he fits in with the three of them, there are always times like this where references and inside jokes fly right over his head. It's a stark reminder that he's the newest addition to this friend group, and will probably be forever.

He sighs, just a little bit, inaudible over the chattering of Louise in the background. Then suddenly there's a hand grabbing his, a thumb rubbing over his knuckle, and he looks up.

Phil looks at him, head tilted almost imperceptibly.

_You okay?_

Dan can't help but smile. He's touched, alright? Phil is ridiculously sweet, and sensitive, and wonderful, and Dan really doesn't deserve to have him as a friend.

He squeezes Phil's hand a little.

_Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks._

Phil smiles back, just a quick fleeting grin, then turns to join in the conversation - the topic is lizards, apparently. Dan does the same, angling his body so he faces the rest of them.

“I wouldn't mind being a lizard,” Tyler says dreamily. “Just - y’know, lazing around all day, under the sun - ”

“But you would have to eat flies,” Phil says. “Bugs. Beetles. Mosquitoes.”

“Eugh,” Louise says, cringing, at the same time Dan says, “I wouldn't mind that, if I could sleep in all day.”

“Yes! I know, right?”

“You could have suction feet,” Phil muses. “And a detachable tail and all the cool stuff.”

“See? The benefits of being a lizard far outweigh the drawbacks.” Dan says. “Discussion over.”

Louise shakes her head. “If I could choose to be any animal, I'd rather be a bird. I mean, you have wings, and you can fly - ”

Phil is nodding his head very emphatically. “That's cool!”

“Isn't that worse though?” Tyler asks. “You'd have to eat worms.”

“Not if we choose to be seagulls,” Dan suggests. “We’d eat fish.”

“Seagulls?” Louise wrinkles her nose. “They're so squawky, and annoying, and steal food all the time - ”

“Like Dan,” Phil puts in, causing a ripple of laughter. Dan rolls his eyes, unable to stop a grin from spreading across his face.

“Flamingos eat shrimp, don't they?” Tyler says. “The shrimp makes them go pink, or something - ”

Dan's eyes widen. An image flashes by in his mind, one of pink birds with feathers stained orange with fire.

“Flaming flamingos,” he splutters.

There's a short, incredulous silence. Dan buries his face in his arms and tries to press down his laughter and his embarrassment.

“Flaming flamingos?” Phil finally asks. “Is that a pun?” He sounds way too amused.

“Yes,” Dan says, voice muffled. “It was a dream. Flaming flamingos. They were on fire. I wasn't. Let's move on. Next topic. Please.”

“Okay,” Phil says. Dan doesn't need to look up to know that there's a twinkle in his eye.

“Okay,” Louise echoes.

Tyler says, softly, almost inaudibly, “Jeez. And I thought Phil was the weird one.”

“It was a good pun, though,” Phil adds, ignoring Tyler. “A+ for effort.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, deadpan.

A beat passes, then: “Mooooving on!” Louise chirps. Dan lifts his head from his arms and laughs.

Tyler's right - as far as evenings go, this is pretty normal for them. Mario Kart was banned after Dan’s winning streak hit fifty, so now they just play Kinect Sports and try not to break anything of Tyler's. Suffice to say, Phil's already failed. Twice.

It's fun, though, Dan can't deny that. It's also one of the rare times that he actually exercises, and he thinks he's getting pretty good at it.

Dinner is pizza. They agree to get delivery, since they're all too lazy to get up and go to the store. The doorbell rings a short while later, and Dan stretches, nonchalant.

“Go on, Phil, get the pizza.”

Phil barely gets a word out before Tyler's chiming in, “Yeah, Phil, get the pizza. You're closest to the door, see?”

He isn't.

“What - ” then Louise cuts him off, “Please, Phil? Go on then, Phil, you're the nicest.” She pets his arm, batting her eyelashes, then falls over laughing. Dan forces himself to choke out a laugh, even as something sours in his gut.

He relaxes a little when Phil doesn't respond, choosing to glare at them all instead. Then he sighs, long and exasperated, and Dan grins.

“To think I call you all my friends,” Phil says, voice fading off as he gets up and walks to the door. “I feel betrayed.”

No one bothers to reply. They exchange high-fives instead, giggling. From a good distance away comes another drawn-out sigh.

Phil comes back a few moments later, pizza boxes balanced precariously on his arms and looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“What's wrong?” Dan asks. He's not sure whether he should be concerned or amused - a mixture of both, perhaps.

Phil makes a face. “Pizza guy. He asked me if he should close the door, and I said no, I'll close it, and then we had an awkward closing the door thing - ”

Dan can't help it - he starts laughing. So does Louise. Tyler just sits there and shakes his head in disbelief.

“And then he touched my hand,” Phil finishes, looking woeful.

“Wow,” Dan says. “Incredible.” His face feels like it's about to be split in half.

“Oh god,” says Tyler. “I should just have gone. This is my flat. Now whenever I order pizza they're going to remember my flat as the place where - where...”

“Where Phil went to eighth base with the pizza man?”

“No!” Louise shrieks, hitting Dan on the shoulder. “Horrible mental image! Stop!”

“What mental image, Lou?” Phil asks wickedly. “Pizza porn?”

Tyler makes the sound equivalent of asdfghjkl and covers his ears. “Stop,” he begs.

Dan echoes the sentiment. “Please, Phil, please. Why do you always have to insert innuendos everywhere?”

“It's not just me!”

“Not just you? Oh, what, who was the one who mentioned _a tiny little Phil_ when we were playing that game - ”

“STOP,” Louise chokes out. “Pizza. Let's eat. Let's stop. No more innuendos, thank you very much.”

“I second that,” says Tyler.

Five minutes later, they're stuffing their faces with pizza while Season 2 of Voltron plays on TV.

After a while, Louise muses, “I reckon if we did go to a real party, it would be a wreck.”

Tyler splutters. “Yeah, can you imagine just four lone nerds hanging out together at the corner - ”

“Phil would just break everything, wouldn't he - ”

“We would eat all the food, you realise?”

“ - get banned by the host of the party, probably - ”

“Just huddled in the corner not socialising - ”

“It would be a mess.” Phil shudders. “I'm glad.”

They carry on in that vein for a while, voices mingling with the action music of the show (they're all just half-heartedly watching, anyway). Soon the ending credits are playing, and all that is left of the pizza are crumbs scattered in the boxes.

“So,” Tyler says, tone hopeful. Dan smothers a laugh.

Louise rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Let's go,” Phil says, getting up. He grabs Dan by the hand and pulls him up. Dan lets him.

“Go where?”

 

  
***

 

  
They step out onto a pavement slick with fallen rain, shimmering with a combination of street lights and the setting sun.

“So, what's the tradition?” Dan asks, quiet. Louise and Tyler are pretty far ahead of him and Phil; around them, the city bustles.

Dan feels…odd. Slightly jittery, nervous. Slightly delirious. Like the moment he stepped out into the evening air the comfortable bubble that surrounded him in Tyler's flat had popped. Like he's being stripped of all his armour and now all the raw emotion he usually pushes down is bubbling up under his skin and exposing itself to the whole wide world.

It's…not really a bad feeling, per se. Just odd.

He blames the night air.

Phil laughs, tucks his hands into his pockets. “It's...well. I've never had to explain it before.” He smiles, awkward yet charming, and Dan is suddenly awfully, dangerously close to pinning him up against a wall and kissing him.

He swallows. It is oddly cold for a day in spring, he thinks.

“Go on then. Start from the beginning - every tradition has an origin story, doesn't it?”

“Well - yeah.” Phil says. They walk past a shop enthusiastically advertising pain-free tattoos in flashy lights and bold font.

“So - it started two years ago, I think - we were at this party that Tyler dragged us to, and suffice to say it was quite horrible, we all got really sloshed and a lot of things happened at the same time.”

Dan makes an affirmative sort of noise. He knows, he's been in that sort of situation before. Phil exhales.

“And we left early, because of that, and then we just sort of ended up wandering around the city, at midnight, and somehow we got to this really nice spot where you could look down and see everything, everyone, and it was really cool. And we stayed there for ages, I think, all the way to dawn, just because everything was so pretty. Then we did it again, and again, so whenever the exams end that's our celebratory tradition.”

“Nice,” Dan says. He means it.

There's a short silence. Their hands brush.

“Wait till you see it,” says Phil softly. “The place, I mean. You'll like it. It's…”

He pauses, thinks.

“...absolutely beautiful.”

 _So_ _are_ _you_ , Dan thinks quietly, helplessly, desperately. He looks at Phil, at his crooked smile and the spark in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. _So_ _are_ _you._

(he's falling, falling so fast and so hard and there's no one around to catch him)

He doesn't voice the thought. Of course he doesn't. Instead he forces nonchalance into his voice and says, “Cool. Are we reaching?”

“Nope. Just up there, I think.”

And because it's a small hill that Phil's pointing to, Dan says, high-pitched and over-dramatic, because he's expected to: “A hill? A _hill_? Phil Lester, are you kidding me?”

Phil giggles, like he's supposed to, before he stops. Dan looks away.

(what is _wrong_ with him?)

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you…” There's a worried crease in Phil’s forehead, and Dan wants to brush it away with his fingertips.

He looks down. “I'm fine.” Phil doesn't look convinced, so Dan reaches over and grabs Phil's hand, locking their fingers together. Phil blinks, but Dan doesn't let go.

“I'm fine.” _and also you're beautiful, so beautiful do you know -_

Phil looks at him, smiles, then slides his thumb across Dan’s knuckle.

“Okay,” He says simply. The word settles somewhere within Dan's rib cage, chasing away the tension that's simmering in his veins. He lets out a breath.

In front of them, Louise giggles, loud and cheerful.

They don't let go of each other until they reach the hill.

 

  
***

 

  
The climb up isn't that hard, no matter how much Dan complains. They reach the top in practically no time at all.

“Ta-da!” Tyler declares, flinging his arm out. “Welcome to our Secret Hideout!”

“The secret hideout?” Louise asks, crinkling her brow. “Is that what we're calling it?”

“Well, yeah,” Tyler shrugs. “You have a better name?”

While they bicker, Dan glances around. They're at a small grassy patch on the top of the hill, with a few trees and bushes forming a sort of alcove around them. Like Phil said, the place seems to overlook the entire city, and Dan glimpses the university somewhere behind a tall building he presumes to be Tyler's flat.

Under the low evening light, it's beautiful.

“Cool, right?” Phil says softly.

“Yeah.”

(somewhere up the climb, they'd stopped holding hands.)

(Dan misses the warmth.)

“Okay guys,” Tyler claps his hands, drawing Dan's attention back to him. “Which would you rather play first - I have Cards Against Humanity here, or we can play Never Have I Ever, or - ”

“Not cards, please,” Louise says.

“Truth or Dare?” Phil suggests. “It's the perfect drunk game - ”

“They're all perfect drunk games, really.”

Dan says to no one in particular, “I already feel drunk.”

(he _is_ drunk, on the night air and the beauty and the city laid out underneath his feet)

“I think - Never Have I Ever?”

“This is going to end up really dirty, isn't it?” Dan says.

Phil shrugs and grins. “Maybe.”

“We’ll start off easy.”

So they end up sitting in a circle on the hill, a bottle of - what is it? Dan's not sure - a bottle of something being passed around between them. They drink whenever they've done the thing, that's the rule.

“Never have I ever,” says Tyler with a glint in his eye, “cried during a movie.”

Louise immediately shrieks and starts hitting him on the shoulder. “That's not - that's not fucking fair, how could you? Emotionless, heartless - ”

They all drink, and Tyler revels in his victory. The alcohol is bitter and laced with something that tastes vaguely berry-like.

“I think I cried at almost every movie I watched,” says Phil. “I cried the most at Harry Potter, though, that's for sure - ”

“Deathly Hallows, oh god.”

“I cried the hardest at Titanic, I think,” says Louise. “Next. My turn. Never have I ever…had hair that wasn't blonde."

“Louuuuu.” Dan whines. “That's just plain not fair.” He grabs the bottle anyway, then passes it to Phil.

Tyler sits stock still. “Wait, if I dyed my hair before - ”

“Counted.” Louise smiles. “Drink.”

“He had purple hair before,” Phil announces. “He looked ridiculous. Plum purple. Blue wasn't so bad, pink was pretty nice, but purple was horrible. He looked like an...aubergine.”

Dan starts laughing. The image of Tyler with aubergine hair is suddenly too much to handle.

Tyler frowns. “I don't think I looked that bad, did I?”

“You did,” says Louise. “You looked quite devastatingly horrible.”

“Oh.” Tyler looks like a kicked puppy, and Dan finds himself leaning over and patting him on the knee.

“It's fine, Ty, I once had lime green hair.”

Louise splutters. “Now that's an image.”

Phil mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “I think you'd be pretty cute, actually,” then blinks a few times very fast before following it up with, “Why lime green, though?”

Dan stares. “Oh - uh, I got dared. By a friend.”

Beside him, Louise attempts to smother a laugh and fails. Tyler coughs into his fist.

Dan can't stop staring. He thinks the tips of Phil's ears have gone pink, but he's not really sure.

The silence stretches on for an extended moment, during which Phil very determinedly keeps his eyes on the ground. Then Louise clears her throat and says, “Dan, your turn.”

Dan blinks. “Oh. Okay, um, never have I ever…” he smirks. “Needed glasses.”

Louise whoops and raises her hand for a high-five. Dan returns it, chuckling.

“Perfect eyesight for the win, yeah?”

“This isn't fair,” Tyler grumbles as he drinks. Phil takes the bottle from him without a word, grimacing at the taste, then slams the bottle down.

“Okay. Never have I ever had curly hair.”

Dan's jaw nearly drops to the ground. “That's just - this is just discrimination, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Louise says woefully as Tyler and Phil exchange a smug high-five.

The rays of light from the sunset has faded away by now, revealing a star-studded sky. Dan pulls his knees up to his chin and gazes up at the constellations, soaking up the night’s quiet beauty - it's something he can never quite get sick of. He'd be happy to stare at it all day, he thinks.

It's not long before the bottle is tossed to the side, and Tyler pulls out another from his bag. Dan's starting to feel pleasantly buzzed, and judging by the way they're all giggling at nothing in particular, the alcohol’s starting to take effect. The questions are certainly growing more and more risqué, too, but Dan’s not complaining.

“Never have I ever fantasized about a teacher.”

They all look at one another for a long moment, then Louise and Phil both make a grab for the bottle.

“Oh my god,” Dan manages to screech in the midst of his laughter. “This is bloody amazing.”

Tyler grins, and Dan is suddenly forcibly reminded of a Cheshire Cat. “Details, guys.”

Louise, having won the brief scuffle for the bottle, takes a swig first. “I was in secondary school, and there was a really hot - yes, Ty, proper hot, like emerald green eyes and blond curly hair and his smile - oh, his smile - ”

“You don't sound over him,” Dan comments, smiling.

“I wouldn't be, either,” says Tyler dreamily, “if he looked like that.”

“And he was our Maths sub teacher for three wonderful days, and everyone crushed on him, I swear. Mr Jake, we called him.” Louise sighs, fingers clenching around the bottle. “And then our old shoddy Maths teacher came back from the hospital and we never, ever saw him again.” She lets out a wail at the last sentence.

“It's fine,” Phil says, attempting to pat her on the shoulder and landing somewhere on her forehead instead. “Maybe one day you'll meet again.”

Dan splutters out a laugh. “Yeah, like one of those fanfic scenarios, you'll meet him at a coffee shop for the first time in years, he'll recognise you and ask you to stay and chat for a while, and then at the end you'll ride off with him into the sunset on the back of a white horse - ”

“Dan!” Phil says, sounding genuinely amazed. “You're good at writing fanfiction!”

He really shouldn't be blushing at this, but he is. “Uh - thanks.”

“What's your AO3 account?” Tyler asks, grinning. “Or - wait, are you a Wattpad sort of person?”

“I don't have any account, thank you very much.” He does, but no amount of alcohol is going to make him ever say that out loud.

“You what?” Phil asks delightedly. Dan realises a beat too late that he has, in fact, said that out loud.

“Nothing,” he says, then grabs the bottle and takes a large swig. Tyler nearly falls over laughing, and Dan scowls in his direction.

Louise points at Phil. “Go on then, tell us. Details.”

Phil blinks, so Dan adds, “Teacher. Crush. Fantasy.”

“Oh.” Phil blinks again, then smiles. “Sixth form. Our history teacher for the year, and he was young, and cool, and rode a motorbike to school, and had the best hair we'd all ever seen, and his eyes were a sort of amber brown, like the colour of honey, maybe, and - ”

Tyler's gone starry-eyed by now. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “Wow.”

Dan wrinkles his nose. “Hey.” He sounds petulant, he knows, but he doesn't quite care. “I have brown eyes too.”

Phil squints at him under the moonlight. “Yeah, but yours is more of a rich chocolate brown, if you know what I mean. Like dark cherry wood.”

“Oh.” Dan considers this for a moment, then shrugs. Tyler snickers. “Okay. Go on.”

“He left after half a year though,” Phil says. “I think he got tired of us.”

Louise sighs. “All the good-looking ones leave at the end, don't they? They all leave.”

“Or maybe,” Tyler pipes up, “you leave all the good-looking ones.” He looks ridiculously pleased with that statement.

“That doesn't even make sense,” Phil giggles.

“Or maybe,” Dan muses, “nothing is forever and in the end we all leave one another, be it moving away or graduating or growing up or dying because everything keeps changing and nothing will stay the same because the concept of permanence is a misconceived idea.”

They all contemplate that for a few seconds. The city sparkles below them, twinkling in time with the stars.

“Cool,” Tyler finally says. “That's really deep.”

Dan shrugs, mildly embarrassed. He takes another sip of the drink, letting the conversation fade into silence. They all gaze quietly at late-night Manchester, spread out prettily in front of them and glittering like it holds diamonds within its streets.

(which it does, actually. gems like his friends. gems like Phil and the coffee shop. gems like days like this.)

Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Phil rests his hand on Dan's. Dan grabs hold of it without a second thought, interlocking their fingers together.

(the air feels like a sigh.)

(he wants to freeze this moment in time forever, to perhaps capture the perfection of this moment somehow and clasp it in his hand and never let go.)

“Look!” Louise says suddenly, and Dan blinks. “A shooting star!”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Oh my god,” says Phil. “Make a wish!” He lets go of Dan's hand to hit his shoulder, eyes lighting up in excitement.

The shooting star - a meteor, some part of Dan's brain supplies - leaves a trail of bright white as it streaks across the sky. Dan thinks that if he squints, he can see a few sparks hurtling from the end and disappearing among the stars.

He looks at the meteor, then looks at Phil, who's grinning with his tongue between his teeth, whose eyes are shining with wonder, whose smile Dan would give up the whole world for.

He thinks, _you. I wish for you._

_(i’m in love with you.)_

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelation no. 2

The shooting star disappears in another blink of an eye, leaving behind nothing but a few stray sparks that fizzle out almost immediately. The night sky, previously so glorious, seems so very bereft all of a sudden.

“Wow.” Louise says softly.

 _Yeah, wow_ , Dan thinks, struck dumb. He grasps at the grass beneath his feet, seeking some semblance of stability. _Wow._

(how has it taken him this long?)

(he's in love with Phil. in love, in love in _love_ \- )

The boy in question turns to face him, smile gracing his lips. “What did you wish for?”

Dan can't reply, can't speak - it's as if the stars in Phil’s eyes have robbed him of his ability to think coherent thoughts. He looks away instead, tangling the grass in his fingers, and forces himself to suck in a shuddering breath.

“If you tell everyone what you wish for, the wish won't come true,” Tyler pipes up matter-of-factly, shifting his glasses up his nose. “Phil, you should know that.”

“Oh, right,” Phil says, then laughs, a soft chuckle in the silence. “Sorry.”

Dan can't help but turn to look at him, and it's like a sucker punch all over again. He grips tighter at the grass, winding the blades around his fingers and pulling hard.

He thinks, _I'm in love with you, Phil_ , and this time it doesn't feel like a realisation, it feels like acceptance and acknowledgment of a fact that's always been true, it feels like _right_ , it feels like - it feels like a warm mug pushed to him in the late winter, it feels like Mario Kart races won and lost, it feels like unexpectedly catching a thermometer with one hand, it feels like laughing about everything and nothing at all, it feels like sunlight on skin and the scent of warm coffee and -

“Wanna continue?” Louise asks, breaking the silence.

Dan blinks. It takes a while before his brain catches up.

“Yeah, sure,” Phil says, glancing at Dan. “Whose turn is it?”

 

  
***

 

  
Three hours later, the city's quietened down, and Dan is considerably much drunker than before. Every few minutes, someone yawns, and the empty bottles clink together on the ground. They've given up on playing the actual game now - just sitting there talking feels good enough. They drift around from one entirely random conversation topic to another, letting comfortable silences fill up the space when they don't have anything to say.

Dan can't stop glancing at Phil, can't stop rolling the words around in his head. He loves Phil - yes, loves. He's as sure of that as...as he's sure the sky is blue.

Huh.

He doesn't really mind, Dan thinks. It's nice. Phil is wonderful, and cute, and kind and sincere and funny and lots of other things, so why shouldn't Dan be loving him? Loving Phil - it's not a bad thing, is it?

Is it? He thinks it might be, actually, but he can't really remember why right now.

Also, is the sky actually blue? He knows that it's got to do with colour pigments and reflecting lights and some shit like that, but sometimes the sky goes different colours, doesn't it?

“What?” Tyler says.

Dan blinks. Did he say that out loud?

“Because of science,” Louise says decidedly. “Science is the answer to everything.”

“No,” says Phil, sitting up from his position on the grass. Dan stares at the moon-like paleness of his neck and wonders, not for the first time, how it would feel to press a kiss there, to paint a bruise there with his mouth.

“The sky is blue,” Phil explains, “because all birds hold some blue in their wings, and when they fly up to the sky - oh, look, that rhymes! - when their wings brush against the sky they paint the sky blue with every flap of the wings.” He grins at Dan, all proud and happy, and Dan blinks again.

“Oh.” Dan says. “Yes, that's probably it.”

“How about the ducks?” Louise asks plaintively. “No one ever thinks about the ducks, and the chickens, and the swans - _they_ can't fly, can they?”

“Maybe that's why water is blue,” Tyler muses. “They paddle in the water, don't they?”

“Oh,” Louise pauses. “Okay, then.”

Dan furrows his brow. “But...flamingos are pink, aren't they?”

“Nooooo,” Phil giggles, leaning back on his arms. “The colour of the birds doesn't matter - you can't see the blue, geddit?”

Somehow, Dan does. He nods, then tilts his head up to slowly lightening sky. The world is starting to wake up around them; in the distance, he can hear the faint sounds of early morning birdsong.

“I wonder if the birds know about the blue in their wings,” Phil muses. “They probably do, don't they? I mean, pigeons are like one of the smartest animals ever - they can tell directions, did you know that, Dan? Dan, did you know that?” He turns to face Dan, eyes lit up with a familiar excitement. “Did you - ”

“Shuttup,” Dan interrupts, shuffling closer to Phil and leaning his head on Phil’s shoulder. “It's cold. You talk too much.”

“I don't,” Phil protests, leaning back almost immediately. “ _You_ talk too much. I hardly ever talk at all.”

“You do,” Dan scoffs. He pulls Phil closer, burying his face into the fabric of the yellow hoodie he got Phil for Christmas. It smells nice, like home, like Phil, so he doesn't move. “You're talking right now.”

“So are you,” Phil murmurs, tugging on his arm. “Shut up.”

Dan closes his eyes and does just that. Phil feels wonderfully nice to lean on, like a big teddy bear, he notes. He wonders vaguely if it's because Phil is just that sort of person, or it's because he loves Phil. Does loving someone make them instantly more cuddly?

“Stop talking,” Phil mumbles, voice raspy with sleepiness.

“I wasn't. I was just thinking.” Dan says.

“You were.”

“I wasn't. Spork.”

“Such an old married couple,” Louise sighs from behind them. Dan is mildly surprised - for a few moments he'd forgotten that he and Phil weren't alone.

Tyler giggles. “When are you gonna get together, huh?” He leans over, nudging Dan’s shoulder with his own. “It's been a long time coming.”

“Shove off,” Dan says, burrowing further into the comfort of Phil’s hoodie. He's too intoxicated to properly scold Tyler now, so he settles for pushing him instead. Phil giggles, then tips his head back so it rests on Dan's.

Louise tuts. “I feel like such a third wheel. Ty, should we leave them alone here?”

Phil says, “That wouldn't be so bad,” then promptly shuts his mouth and closes his eyes and tries very hard to look asleep.

Louise lets out a surprised giggle. Dan just nuzzles against Phil even more, letting the haze in his mind overcome him. Nothing exists right now except for the warmth of Phil’s body, and though the voice in his head keeps telling him he'll regret this the moment he regains full consciousness, he really can't be arsed to care right now.

“Dan. Dan. Dan.”

He wakes up to see a very excited, very not-sober Phil waving a hand in his face. “The sun’s about to rise!”

“You fell asleep,” Tyler adds helpfully, in response to the confused look on Dan's face. “Out, like a light - pew!” He giggles.

“Yep,” Louise confirms with a wicked grin. “Look, Phil took this of you.” She passes over a phone; Dan squints at the image there before groaning and rolling over on his stomach.

“I look horrible.”

“To be fair, we did all stay up almost the whole night, so I think any horribleness can be excused.”

Louise gives a melancholy sigh. “Oh well. We must sacrifice our beauty in order to witness beauty.”

The statement takes a few seconds to sink in, then Phil grabs at Dan's arm. “Look! It's starting!”

It is. Most of the stars have faded off by now, leaving behind a satiny blue sky dotted with wisps of orange clouds. They watch as the colours grow brighter and lighter with every passing minute, till a rose-gold glow casts over the entire city and the sky looks mildly like it's on fire.

“Ooh,” says Phil. “Ah - wow.”

Dan stifles a laugh. “Phil - no - you sound like - ”

Tyler lets out an explosive giggle. “Oh my god. Dan!”

‘I swear, you two have the maturity of three-year-olds,” says Louise, rolling her eyes. Then: “Phil! Not you too!”

And then suddenly they're all rolling on the grass and laughing, and it's ridiculous because it's not even that funny but somehow, with the alcohol running in their veins and the early morning sun warming their skin, it seems like the absolute fucking funniest thing in the entire world.

Dan loves it.

Eventually they calm down enough to properly watch the sunrise. It is pretty, amazingly so, all pink and orange and red, like the messy brushstrokes of paint on a canvas.

They sit in rapt silence for a while, just soaking up the magnificence of the scene. Dan leans his head onto Phil’s shoulder again, seeking warmth.

(with the golden sunlight slanting across his face, lighting his eyes jade green, Phil looks ethereal.)

(but then, he always does, doesn't he?)

Somehow, Phil’s hand manages to find his, linking their fingers together. Dan makes a contented noise, then pulls Phil closer and sighs.

“Cold,” he says into the crook of Phil’s neck. He's not really - the sun is warming his toes and his hands but he feels like he has to give a reason all this touching he can't control.

“Okay,” Phil says softly. He sounds like he's smiling, so Dan smiles too.

The sun rises above them, chasing away the remainder of the stars and lighting up the city. The sounds of the city waking up mingle with the faint buzz of conversation - Dan can't quite make out what his friends are saying, not with the cotton wool in his ears, but he's contented to listen to the hum of their voices, let the sounds lull him somewhere peaceful and quiet.

He closes his eyes, smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

  
***

 

  
The rest of the morning is a blur. Dan has a hazy recollection of hanging onto Phil and calling him rat and spork and teddy bear over and over again, then falling face first onto the mattress the moment he steps into Tyler's flat. He vaguely remembers tugging Phil closer to him for warmth, and the sound of Louise's giggle after Tyler's gigantic yawn, but that's all.

When he wakes up again, it's past noon, and he feels like shit.

“Ow,” he says to no one in particular, then pushes a leg off him and sits up, wincing at the jolt of dizziness that shoots through him. He presses his hand to his neck, steadying himself.

He looks over to see the other three collapsed beside him, sprawled across the mattresses like starfishes draped over each other. They're still out cold, he realises, and he would quite like to be, too, what with the spinning room and the throbbing in his head and the bitterness in his mouth.

How much _did_ they drink last night?

It takes a few seconds for the memories to come crashing back, like waves returning to the shore. He remembers flamingos, and Never Have I Ever, and there was a shooting star, and -

Oh.

Fuck.

He loves Phil?

Oh god, he does. Bloody hell.

Dan is very tempted to jump out of the window right there and then - the hangover isn't helping, especially not when he has a vivid memory of cuddling - cuddling! - with Phil under the stars. It's too - it's too much, is what it is, and Dan can't handle this so early in the day, he can't - yes, it's past noon, but he's also just woken up, and he has to stop his mind from continuing this train of thought right now unless he wants to have a minor meltdown right there in the middle of Tyler's living room.

Oh god.

Love. _Love._ He's in love with his best friend.

Phil.

He looks over at Phil, who's still soundly asleep. His foot is on Tyler’s stomach, and his mouth hangs slightly open, and his hair vaguely resembles a bird’s nest. Objectively, he looks like a mess.

And yet.

And yet, Dan's heart still flips over in his chest. Dan is still surprised by the warmth that blossoms throughout his entire body, rendering his mind blank for a moment. Dan still thinks - no, knows - that Phil is the most beautiful person in the world, both inside and out. Dan would still do anything for the boy sleeping in front of him, anything at all, and it is the absolute certainty that comes with this thought that scares him.

He looks away, drops his head into his hands, and sighs.

From his left, someone stirs. “Mmf. Bright.”

Dan looks over to see Tyler sitting up and wincing, like Dan did earlier. He's sporting an impressive bedhead, and Dan can't help but laugh a little.

“Mornin’,” Tyler yawns. He glances at Dan. “Mate, you look like shit.”

“So do you,” Dan throws back. “Nice hair.”

Tyler looks up. “Oh. Well.”

Then there is silence. Tyler yawns again, and Dan tries to calm down the snowstorm in his head, to organise all the ricocheting thoughts and put them into labelled boxes so he can properly take a look. It doesn't help that most of the thoughts are worrying about what to do about this mess, because he has absolutely no idea.

“Ty,” he says abruptly.

“Yeah?”

“I'm,” he blurts out, then stops, looks at Phil. He hasn't moved at all, and his eyes are still shut tight, so Dan takes a deep breath.

“I'm in love with Phil.” The words come out in one big rush, and Dan winces a little at the obvious desperation, the obvious longing, that filters through his words. He sucks in a breath, and waits.

Tyler blinks blearily at him. “Uh. Okay?”

Dan stares at him for a moment. Doesn't Tyler get it? “In love, Ty. _In love._ I - how? How did this happen? He - oh for god's sake - I'm so horribly in love, Ty, and it's so fucking scary, because I just - ”

“Dan. Dan, calm down.” Tyler looks way more awake now. “Take a deep breath. You okay?”

It's then that Dan realises how tightly he's been clenching his fists, how close he'd been to letting the tears spill over. He swallows, then forces himself to relax.

(he can't be in love - no, really, he can't.)

(but he is.)

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Tyler scoots over, taking care to avoid jostling the others. Dan catches sight of Phil’s sleep-soft expression, and his heart clenches almost painfully in his chest.

“Look, Dan. The way I see it, there are only two things you can do - confess or don't. If you don't, you risk hopelessly pining after him forever. If you do, you risk getting rejected, but at least he'll know. You see? I would rather you tell him than not.”

Dan bites his lip. “Yeah,” he manages to croak. “I know. But - ”

“Dan.” Tyler's smiling now. “Your friendship will be fine, trust me. Phil treasures you so much - it's painfully obvious for everyone to see. I mean, chances are he feels the same, but if he doesn't, you of all people should know that it'll turn out fine.”

Dan gapes at him. Did Tyler just -

Tyler snickers a little. “What?”

“Um.” He swallows again. “Okay. Okay. So. You think I should tell him.”

“Yes. As I already said, chances are he feels the same - ”

“Wait,” Dan interrupts, suddenly flustered. “Wait wait wait. What?”

Tyler's eyes twinkle at him from behind his glasses. “I dunno. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. I can't speak for him, you'll have to tell him yourself.”

Dan blinks. Then, “Tyyyyy,” he whines, sounding for all the world like a six-year-old asking for a sweet. Tyler just grins at him - a smug, infuriating grin that makes Dan want to punch it off and grin back at the same time.

A beat passes. “Fine,” Dan sighs, defeated. _But not now_ , he thinks but doesn't say - he doesn't need to. He knows Tyler can tell.

Tyler beams at him. “Great! Now, coffee. I need coffee. We really should wake up Phil, shouldn't we? He's like, the professional coffee maker in this household.”

Dan splutters out a laugh. “Yeah, you're right. And, um, Ty?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. You know, for all this.”

“As long as you two stop making love eyes at each other, it'll be worth it,” mumbles Tyler under his breath. Dan blinks.

“What?”

“Huh - oh, I said, anytime.” Tyler chuckles, then pulls Dan up. “C'mon. Coffee. Do you need painkillers, by the way? I have some in the cupboard - ”

Dan lets Tyler drag him to the kitchen in search of pills and coffee, chattering all the way. Tyler's boundless energy is infectious, and Dan finds himself grinning as well.

Back in the living room, Phil opens his eyes, gaze landing on the cracked ceiling.

 

  
***

 

  
Phil does end up making them all coffee, though it takes a lot of cajoling on their part and a lot of grumbling on his. “I'm already hungover enough,” he keeps saying, even as he stirs milk into the coffee, which is something he insists on doing even though _it's instant coffee, for god's sake, Phil._

Of course, it's wonderful - it's a fact that everything Phil makes is, even if it's Tyler's crappy instant coffee. Dan sighs into his mug appreciatively - he already feels so much better, and he's just taken a single sip.

“Thanks, Phil,” he says, eyes closed. “This is great. Coffee is great. _You_ are great.”

Phil laughs, then takes a sip himself. “You're welcome.”

Dan’s always prided himself on being able to conceal his emotions, his thoughts - to a certain point, at least. He does his best now: bickering with Phil about the different types of cereal, laughing over a dick joke with Tyler, flattering Louise excessively so she helps him get his phone from the kitchen, generally acting as normal as possible. Not once, or so he thinks, does he let slip the fact that he's head-over-heels for the boy who's currently telling a story about the time he puked all over the guy next to him on a roller coaster.

Louise shudders. “Eugh. I can't stand roller coasters. Phil, I get you.”

“Thank you,” says Phil solemnly. “The guy didn't. He was proper furious.”

“Did you shit your pants?” Tyler wants to know.

“Nearly,” Phil says, still completely serious. “I was that scared. He was massive, like, twice my size and probably ten times as strong.” He shivers. “But I survived.”

“He didn't maul you?” Dan asks, voice verging on the edge of screechy. “Wow. I'm shocked. Did you like, charm your way out of the situation?”

Phil starts to giggle. “No, I guess I just apologised and offered to pay for his cleaning fees? And then I ran.”

“Wow,” Dan says. “I'm impressed. Teach me, senpai.”

He waits for Phil’s mouth to curl up into a smile, waits for the tell-tale twinkle in Phil's eyes to appear.

A split-second later, it does. Dan sits back on his heels and grins.

So - yeah, he thinks he's doing a pretty good job. Dan knows exactly how to tread the line of regular best friend interactions and mild flirting - it's what he's always done with Phil, in the face of Tyler and Louise, and it's what he does now. He knows how to do this, it's familiar territory. Being in love with Phil doesn't change the fact that they're each other's best friend, first and foremost, and Dan can navigate these waters like the back of his hand.

By the time they decide to leave Tyler's flat, it's four o'clock, and it's raining outside. Tyler digs in his cupboard for two umbrellas and chucks it at them. “Here you go. I only have two, sorry, you'll have to share or go without.”

“Me and Dan are going the same way,” Phil says before anyone says anything. “We can share - wait, Dan, you're heading back to campus, right?”

Who is Dan to say no to that smile?

“Yeah.”

“I'm going the other way,” says Louise, already picking up one umbrella. “I'll be going then. Bye, idiots.”

“Bye,” they chorus, watching Louise leave. When Dan turns back around, Tyler's watching him and Phil quite carefully.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here you go - now get out of my house, I have stuff to do.” Tyler grins.

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Bye. Thanks.”

“Bye,” Dan echoes, and then they're off, stepping out into the rain. Dan takes a breath of that familiar rain-scent he's always loved; next to him, he hears Phil do the same.

He smiles, tips the umbrella to Phil’s side just a little more. The raindrops fall from the sky and bounce off the plastic of the umbrella, creating a pattering sound; Dan listens and watches and wonders, just a little, why he isn't freaking out or crying or... _something_ right now.

But then, he wonders, why should he be? Phil’s right here next to him, and that's always enough to keep Dan in a good mood.

But it's precisely the fact that Phil is here that should have made Dan start to - well, worry is the best word he can find, even if it doesn't quite fit - but he’s not.

And it's not just that - it's also the fact that he's alone with Phil without the protective barrier of Tyler and Louise. It's the fact that he's so, achingly in love and he knows that Phil would never reciprocate, because there's absolutely no reason he would.

Well, yes, Dan’s heart can't help but seize painfully whenever he touches on that. It's almost a reflex action at this point when he grabs hold of that thought and shoves it to the back of his mind, where it will remain for as long as Dan can keep it there.

But Tyler's right, he thinks. If there were anyone on earth who would stay friends with Dan no matter what, it's Phil. Dan knows very well just how lucky he is to have a Phil in his life, to crack jokes when the situation gets too serious and to comfort Dan with just an eyebrow raise and a smile. So he doesn't really want to push for more, not when he already has more than he deserves.

(and yet…)

“You're thinking again,” Phil observes, smile in his voice. “You've got that look on your face.”

Dan lets out a surprised laugh, fingers curling around the handle of the umbrella. “Yeah - uh, sorry about that.” Why is he apologising?

“Why are you apologising?” Phil says. “It's fine. It's nice to watch you think.”

Dan blinks, then blushes a little. “Oh - okay. Um.” What?

Phil doesn't reply, just grins. They walk in silence for a while, shoes squeaking on the pavement.

“What were you thinking about, though?”

Dan thinks for a moment, then decides to tell him the truth - or part of it, at least.

“Love.”

Phil’s eyes widen. “Love, huh. Well, what about love?”

Dan’s cheeks are heating up more and more with every passing moment. “Uh - just, love. You know.”

To an outsider, perhaps, Phil would look unnaturally serious now. But Dan knows him well enough to spot the twinkle in his eyes, to hear the teasing lilt to his voice.

“Platonic love? Romantic? Familial?”

“Romantic,” Dan blurts out without thinking. He ducks his head, cursing at himself.

“Oh,” Phil says, a barely-there smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Well, who's the lucky guy?”

He says it _so casually._ Dan nearly falls over on his face, and ends up bumping into a lady in a yellow raincoat instead. He murmurs a quick apology, face flushing even more.

“Or girl?” Phil continues, seemingly unaware of the terror-trauma-torture he's putting Dan through. “Or person. Or genderless, ageless non-sentient blob of nothingness - Dan. Dan, are you okay?”

Dan coughs into his fist. No, he is certainly not okay, thank you very much. His face feels like it's on fire, and he has the sudden, vicious urge to run across the road all the way to the mountains and perhaps stay there forever.

(not that he would actually do that, because Phil hates the cold -

oh god.)

“I'm fine,” he manages to choke out. “And - uh - no. There's no lucky...anything.” He throws in an awkward laugh for good measure, then forces himself to tilt up his chin and look Phil in the eye.

(he can't tell Phil. someday, he will, but...)

(not yet. not now.)

Phil looks back just as steadily. Gradually, without either of them noticing, their footsteps grow slower, and slower, until they've stopped walking altogether, right there in the middle of the street.

Time seems to slow. The umbrella, held high above both their heads, encases them in a small, private bubble of their own. Dan hears none of the annoyed huffs of people forced to sidestep him and Phil, nor does he notice that the rain has softened to a drizzle.

(his eyes are so, so beautifully blue amidst the dull grey of everything else, and Dan can't look away.)

“Really?” Phil asks, almost inaudibly. If Dan didn't know better, he would say that there was a tinge of hope to his tone.

Dan bites his lip. The truth balances on the tip of his tongue, ready to escape.

(he can't do it. he can't.)

The silence stretches on, filling up the space where the words should have gone. Dan swallows, grips the handle of the umbrella tighter. All of a sudden, the eye contact feels explosive, like a spark held to the fuse of an unlit firework.

Dan's mouth goes dry. Their fingertips brush; around them, the drizzle starts to fade.

A heartbeat passes, then two, three -

Phil looks away first, scuffing his shoe on the cobblestone. Dan blinks, then lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He stuffs his free hand into his jeans pocket.

When Phil looks up again, he's grinning, bright and cheerful. “Alright then,” he says, then reaches out and tugs on the hem of Dan’s hoodie. “Come on. Let's go.” He starts hurrying off in the direction of the coffee shop, and Dan catches a glimpse of a smile before it disappears.

He blinks again, then scrambles to follow after Phil, wielding the umbrella as he goes. The rain is picking up again, and he nearly falls over his face trying to shield Phil from the incoming droplets.

_Seriously, this guy._

He manages to catch up two seconds later. Phil turns to him and grants him a grin, and Dan gives up even trying to be mildly annoyed. He smiles back without hesitation, falling back into step with Phil.

“Want a coffee?” Phil asks when they reach the coffee shop. He shoves both hands into his pockets, beaming up at Dan expectantly.

“Okay,” says Dan. He would say yes no matter what Phil asks, and it's a fact he's grown to accept.

“My treat,” says Phil, apparently delighted as he pushes open the door. Dan follows him into the warmth, blinking a little dumbly.

_Phil in a brown apron, standing behind the counter, eyes wide and apologetic, “Hey, um, this one is going to be on the house, okay? As an - as an apology for bumping into you that day.”_

_The scent of pumpkin, warm autumn sunlight, cheesy fall puns -_

“Okay,” Dan says aloud, then he smiles.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets sad, Phil is there
> 
> (A/N: im really sorry for the longer-than-usual wait! school's started, and life's starting to catch up, so updates will take a little longer. thank you for sticking with this story!)

Dan makes his way through the park with a bounce in his step, avoiding the puddles as he goes.

The rain’s stopped by now, leaving behind an uncharacteristically blue sky for this time of year in Manchester - it’s like the sky's just come out of the laundry, Dan thinks, flashing back to a memory of his grandma whispering those exact words to him several years earlier. The sun peeks out from behind several clouds, winking at him, and Dan smiles up at it, not even caring that he's in public right now.

Maybe it's the caffeine and sugar in his veins, or maybe it's the way Phil beamed at him just now, when they were nestled in the warmth of the coffee shop, or maybe it's the sudden realisation that the sky is the exact same shade of blue as Phil’s eyes - Dan is just. Really happy. It's the sort of happy that's reserved only for Phil, his smile, his laugh, his company - Dan wants to hold on to this joy as long as possible, to treasure it and perhaps store it in a jar lest it float away.

But Dan wouldn't be Dan without a voice in the far corner of his mind constantly muttering about something to ruin his mood, would he? It's just a matter of whether he chooses to listen to it or not.

The voice pipes up now, whispering about _unrequited love_ , and Dan shoves it back down as far as he can without letting the smile drop from his face. The weather’s too nice to angst right now, he thinks, and besides, why bother obsessing over this one-sided love when he could appreciate the friendship they've got going on? It's something that Dan treasures with all his heart, something that he wouldn't risk losing for the world.

And, well, if he just so happens to hopelessly pine after his best friend every single moment they spend together, then no one needs to know.

Except Tyler and Louise already do, so - oh, fuck it.

Dan sits down on a park bench, gaze landing on the flowers on the bushes in front of him. He's never really been much of a flower person - Phil’s generally much more interested in nature and plants than Dan himself has ever been.

 _Camellia japonica_ , he remembers. And _rhododendron ponticum_. Pretty, yes, but nothing more than that to Dan - yet now he'll forever remember those as the flowers that marked the first day of spring he spent with Phil.

He buries his face in his hands and groans. He's such a fucking sap, goddamnit - apparently Phil brings out the hopeless romantic in him, because he's never been like this before. Never.

He lifts his head back up, allowing his gaze to rove over the flower garden - which is the wrong decision, clearly, because once he glimpses a bush of red roses he's picturing -

Phil, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands, cheeks slightly pink, blue eyes wide with surprise. “For me?” He says, softly, reverently, running his thumb across the edge of a petal, and then he beams up at Dan and leans forward and -

Dan, the real-life Dan, makes a strangled noise and very firmly puts that fantasy away. He really shouldn't be imagining things like this, curse his mind and body and heart. It can't be very healthy, can it?

He tears his gaze away from the roses, then turns to the plant sitting right next to him. _Borage_ , the sign reads, _also known as starflowers -_

Starflowers.

And now he's picturing himself confessing to Phil under the night sky, sitting on that grassy hill, a million stars lighting up their surroundings, their fingers laced together - and oh, how easy it would be to turn to Phil and poke him in the side and whisper, “Hey, I love you,” for only them and the stars to hear.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling Dan out of that particular scenario. He blinks, momentarily disoriented.

(get a grip, Dan. seriously.)

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, then swipes right and lifts it to his ear.

“Hey, Mum.” It's a Monday, she must be on her lunch break right now. He can hear the typical crowd noises in the background.

“Dan!” She sounds rushed. “How did the exams go?”

Dan’s lips quirk up. “Pretty good. I'm quite happy.”

“Good,” she says, and Dan can hear the smile in her voice. “It's been very rainy in Manchester lately, hasn't it? Best if you keep your umbrella in your bag at all times, otherwise you'll get caught in the rain and get sick again. ”

Dan makes an affirmative noise, letting his legs dangle from the edge of the bench. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Though I think you wouldn't really mind getting sick, would you - ow!” There's a clatter, then the sound of a bump, and Dan blinks. “Give me a moment - ”

Dan takes the two seconds she's gone to process what she just said, then asks, “Why wouldn't I mind?”

“Well, Phil comes over and takes care of you when you're sick, right?” Her tone is unmistakable.

The blood instantly rushes to Dan’s face. “Mum!”

She laughs. “Sorry, I'm not sorry. Really though, are you two…because I wouldn't mind at all, you know. Phil seems like a wonderful boy, polite and caring and - ”

Dan manages to choke out a flustered laugh, cutting her off - after all, he's already spent way too many nights thinking about how wonderful Phil is. “We’re just friends, Mum - it's not like that. It could never be.”

“Oh?” Her tone grows soft, and Dan bites his lip. “Well. Do you wish it could?”

Dan's silence for the next five seconds is answer enough.

His mother sighs. “Oh, Dan,” she says. “You like him, don't you?”

She doesn't sound mad, or disappointed - just matter-of-fact, so Dan swallows and says, “Yeah.”

“Does he know?” She prompts.

Dan shakes his head mutely, then remembers that she can't see him. “No,” he says. “But…”

He's not sure where he's going with that sentence, so she finishes it for him.

“But you're going to tell him?”

In that split second, caught between two oscillating possibilities, Dan makes his choice.

“Yes.”

 

  
***

 

  
By the time Dan heads back to his room, the sky's already darkened somewhat. He makes a beeline for his bed, ignoring the pile of homework assignments on his desk - who thought it would be a good idea to give out homework after the exams, anyway?

He collapses on the bed face-up, eyes landing on the ceiling.

So.

He's going to confess.

And he's going to make it count.

But how?

He's had so many scenarios in his head before, so many different ideas about how the confession was going to go - but now that he's actually decided to do it, every scenario he's ever thought of suddenly seems too casual, too cheesy, too insincere, too over-the-top -

It's all suddenly, unflinchingly real. The used-to-be-vague notion that's always lingered in the corner of his mind has now taken front and center stage, presenting itself to Dan in all its startling clarity.

He can't back out now. He has to do this.

But how?

 

  
***

 

  
“Hey Lou?”

“Dan? What's up?”

Dan can't help but laugh. “ _What's up?_ Lou, you've been spending too much time with Tyler.”

From the phone comes a groan. “I know. Oh god, I know.”

There's a short pause, then she asks, “Anyway, what's the matter?”

“Well…” Dan realises that he is, inexplicably, stalling for time, “Does there have to be a matter? Can't I just want to, y’know, have a chat with my dear friend Louise?”

“Dan.” The image of Louise rolling her eyes pops into his head, clear as day.

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah, okay. Well, you know the - the thing I have for Phil?”

"You mean your gigantic crush on him?” Louise supplies helpfully. “I do know that, yes, though some days I would rather not, because you're so painfully in love and so painfully unsubtle that it makes me want to puke. Don't even get me started on the romantic tension between you two, I swear -”

Dan nearly chokes. Honestly, why does everyone seem to know about everything he's been trying to keep under wraps?

“Anyway,” he hastily cuts in before Louise can continue, “I - I'm going to need your help. You're the only person I know who could probably give some solid advice on this matter - it was either you or Tyler, because as you know I don't have any other friends, and Ty - well, he's kind of the worst secret keeper in the entire world, so - ”

“Dan, you're rambling.” Louise chuckles, sounding for all the world like an exasperated mother talking to her child. “Okay. I know what you're going to ask.”

“You do?” Dan says. Alright, now he's starting to get sick of this - he's surely not that transparent, is he?

“Yes, I do. You're going to tell Phil how you feel, aren't you - and you need help with that. Right?”

Or maybe his friends are just unusually observant…?

Dan sighs. “Yeah. Do - do you have any ideas, for, uh, how I should confess?”

When Louise doesn't respond immediately, he plows on: “I don't want to make it too corny, because I might just cringe before even saying anything, but at the same time it has to - it has to be perfect, y’know? Like, it can't be too casual, or anything - I mean, I know he's going to reject me, but no regrets, and all that jazz?”

Louise stays silent for a long time, and Dan starts nervously chewing on his thumbnail. Why isn't she saying anything?

When she finally speaks, it becomes instantly clear to Dan that she's barely holding in her laughter.

“Dan, darling,” she says. “You're not _proposing_ to him, are you?”

Dan feels his cheeks burn. “Lou!” He splutters, even as the image of Phil in a suit - _oh_ , Phil in a suit - flashes by in his mind. “Of course not! I don't - this isn't - I just want it to be nice, is all! It's not _marriage_!”

There's no response except for laughter. Dan groans.

“I'm cutting off all ties with you.”

“I'm sorry,” Louise chokes out after a while. “I was kidding - you're a little young to get married, aren't you?”

“Louise!”

“In all seriousness,” she says after she's calmed down, “you did sound a little like you were planning a marriage proposal. It's just telling him how you feel, isn't it?”

“Yes, but…” Call him cheesy, but he wants so much for that moment to be perfect. He wants just one last perfect moment he can remember before the inevitable let-down comes, before he's no longer allowed to categorize the rings of colour in Phil’s eyes, before he has to erase all the gentle touches and looks full of longing and hide them where Phil can't see.

So it has to be perfect. It has to be.

“Dan, listen,” says Louise, suddenly serious. “Just go with the flow. You don't have to set up the perfect, elaborate occasion - and anyway, you can't plan this sort of thing, not really. The moment will come sooner or later - just tell him when you feel like the time is right.”

Dan exhales. _What if the moment never comes_ , he wants to say. _What if I mess it up?_

(oh god, he does sound like he's proposing.)

“And anyway, it's not like the two of you don’t already flirt so much people would think you're a couple,” says Louise. “I'm honestly surprised Phil doesn't know already - ”

For one horrifying moment, Dan stops breathing.

“But then,” Louise continues, “he's the densest person I've ever met. No, scratch that, both of you are incredibly dense. Perfect match, see.”

He lets out a relieved laugh. “Yeah - um, well - ”

“You can relax. Just tell him when it feels right, okay?”

Dan looks out of the window, at the turreted buildings looming in the distance, appearing bone-white in the moonlight. The same buildings he had gazed upon in wonder when he first arrived here, lost and lonely, though he didn't quite admit it at that time.

And then, out of nothing but pure coincidence, he met Phil.

Maybe Louise is right. The best things don't have to be planned.

“Okay. Thanks, Lou.”

 

  
***

 

  
Life goes on. The end-of-exams high takes a while to hit, but when it does, it hits like a hurricane: whisking away things like students’ sanity and decent sleep hours, bringing in copious amounts of bad alcohol and pop music pumped out at full volume. Dan finds that he's actually quite missed the sounds of late-night partying - his room is always quite lonely, after all, and it's nice to have a reminder that out there, there are people. People he doesn't know, yes, and people who don't know him, it's true, but they are people, and they're having fun.

Sometimes, that knowledge is enough.

He spends more time at the coffee shop than ever. With the exams over, Phil once again dons his brown apron and returns behind the counter - where he belongs, he jokes. Dan laughs, but he really couldn't agree more - there's something inherently mesmerising about watching Phil mix and swirl and pour, his movements deft and quick like he's been doing it all his life.

It's such a huge departure from the regular clumsiness of the Phil he knows. That Phil seems like he's always not quite sure what to do with his limbs. That Phil knocks over at least two things per day. This Phil, Phil the barista, moves with skill and control and a grace he never glimpses in everyday Phil.

(and yes, it does make him look good as hell, and yes, Dan can't stop staring even if he tried.)

He mentions this one Wednesday, as offhandedly as he can manage. It doesn't really help that Phil’s just passed him a mug and is now beaming at Dan from the seat opposite him. Their knees are touching, Phil's hair is rumpled and _fuck_ because now all Dan can think about is Phil making them both coffee with the same rumpled hair in their nonexistent future shared kitchen, morning sunlight slanting across white walls, smiling lazily at each other -

He shakes his head to clear the images (or rather, store them away for future fantasies) and says, “Why is it that I never really see you knocking things over when you're making coffee, but you somehow manage to knock over everything in the whole universe once you're let loose from that kitchen?”

He's not exaggerating - not really.

Phil laughs. “I could probably knock over the earth if I tried,” he says, smoothing down his hair. Dan follows the motion with his eyes. “But - yeah, Esme would kill me if I ever actually broke anything, so it's probably that. She trained me to be a lot more coordinated.”

“But it's more than that,” Dan tries.

Phil looks at him quizzically, tilting his head, so Dan continues.

“It's not just that you're more careful - you're also more…in control, somehow. Like you know exactly what you're going to do and how to do it and you're not the least bit awkward like you sometimes are. It's like you're more comfortable in your own skin when you're making drinks, does that make sense? So naturally you’re more certain of your movements and stuff. I mean, if I didn't know you and I saw you in your barista apron I'd probably think you were cool.”

Phil laughs at this, eyes twinkling, and Dan relaxes a little.

“Did you just attempt to analyze my - my movements?”

“Well, yeah,” Dan says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “In case you couldn't tell, I've been spending quite a lot of time thinking about this.”

(he's not joking. oh, not at all.)

“It was time well spent,” says Phil, grinning. “You did a pretty good job, I'm impressed. You should just quit law and go become a psychologist instead.”

Dan laughs. “Maybe I should.”

His eyes linger on the wood-grain swirls of the tabletop; almost subconsciously, he bites the inside of his cheek.

He doesn't say that he's thought about it before - quitting law, that is - on those nights that were too lonely for him to do much else. When he had only the stars and the moon for company, and when it seemed a little like no one in the world would care.

Then, somewhere in the midst of exams and friends and Uni life, he pushed all the thoughts away, hid them behind a painstakingly built barrier made of stone. But now just one joking nudge from Phil, and everything comes crashing down and flooding back and all of a sudden Dan is eight months younger again.

He'd thought about how it would feel to lift that horrible burden off his back, to run into the city with newfound wings and to be able to do absolutely anything he wanted. He would be free. He would be free and young and the world was full of opportunities, wasn't it? But then the crushing weight of reality pulled him down from the sky, sending him spiralling into a graveyard full of skeletons who looked at him and shook their heads and whispered _university dropout_ and _such a disappointment_ and Dan knew. Dan knew that he could never have the courage to drop out. Dan knew that he would never be able to give everything up to pursue his dream, not when he wasn't even sure what his dream was. Dan knew, and sometimes he hated himself for it.

Other times, he just doesn't think about it at all.

He doesn't say any of this, of course, because he's a coward and saying anything aloud makes it so much more real. Instead he just stares at his mug and stirs it anticlockwise and tries to ignore the sudden change in the air.

He knows Phil can tell. Phil can always tell.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?” He forces himself to sound neutral.

“Want to go for a walk?”

 

  
***

 

  
They walk side by side along the winding park path, arms brushing. The air is crisp and cool and tastes ever-so-slightly sweet.

“So.” Phil says. _What's the matter?_

"So?"  _What are you talking about?_

Phil doesn't respond, just turns to look at Dan with worried eyes. _Dan, what's wrong?_

Dan can't bring himself to meet Phil's gaze, so he stares at the fallen petals on the ground instead. Because there's nothing wrong - except Dan himself. He's wrong and he'll always be wrong, so why bother trying?

And it's weird, because it's been ages since he felt like this - like he was worthless and a disappointment and a pile of crap. He knows it's not true - he has Phil and Tyler and Louise and a results slip to prove it - but sometimes, no matter how hard he tries to push them down, the voices in his head grow so loud that they block out everything else.

Now is one of those times.

“Dan,” says Phil. Very gently, he places a hand on Dan’s back. “Take a deep breath.”

So he does, and yes, it helps. Phil always helps, even when he's not trying. He's great like that, and Dan really doesn't deserve to have him as a friend, much less a best friend.

The voices rear their heads.

Because Phil is - Phil is colour and brightness and brilliance and warmth, and Dan is dull and dark and _nothing_ and - how could he ever have thought of being with Phil when Phil deserves so much more? He deserves someone way better than Dan can ever offer, someone whom Dan can never compare to -

“Dan.”

Stop, Dan, just stop - what is wrong with you? You're not just-turned-nineteen anymore, that was nearly a whole year ago, haven't you gotten better since then? Then why are you feeling like this?

Stop it, Dan, _stop_ -

“Dan?”

Dan jolts. “I'm fine,” he says on reflex. “I'm fine.” Belatedly, he realises that he's been squeezing Phil's hand with all his might. Abruptly, he releases it, and it falls limply to Phil's side.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Phil says quickly, quietly. Then, softer, “Dan, you know you can tell me anything.”

Dan doesn't say anything.

He knows. He knows Phil is probably the best confidant anyone could ever have. He knows that he can trust Phil with all his heart, that Phil trusts him just as much in return. It's a knowledge that's ingrained in his soul - in his bones, even, because it's one of the most fundamental parts of their friendship.

It's just...

He doesn't know.

(he's scared. he's a coward and he's scared, alright?)

(how do you not be scared of the demons that whisper things from the crevices of your mind? how do you not be scared when they wrap untruths around your windpipe and make you believe the worst things about yourself?)

“Dan?”

He blinks. He's standing in front of a park bench, surrounded by a sea of flowers. It takes him another moment to realise that Phil's already sat down, and is looking up at him with a carefully blank expression on his face.

Slowly, he lowers himself onto the bench. The one inch between him and Phil feels like a mile; the silence feels suffocating in a way it never had before. It hurts. Dan has never wanted to hold Phil's hand more than in this moment - he needs Phil to ground himself, he needs Phil to wish away all the darkness in the corners of his head.

“You're shaking,” Phil says. He sounds…he sounds nothing like himself. He sounds a little sad, a little concerned, but he also sounds like he's holding back. He sounds like Dan is fragile, and easily breakable, as if one gentle touch might splinter him into a million pieces. And Dan thinks that he wants to feel mad about this, but he can't, because the reality is that it's true.

(Phil also sounds like he wants something, but is afraid. Dan’s not sure of what.)

(no. that's just wishful thinking, isn't it?)

Then there's a hand grabbing his, a thumb rubbing over his knuckle, just like so many times before. Dan relaxes almost instantly at the contact, instinctively slotting his fingers between Phil's and holding on tight. The voices retreat, just a little, back into their shadows, and Dan lets them.

He looks up. Phil's eyes are firmly planted on the ground, but he's gripping back.

Almost as if on cue, they turn to each other at the same time.

“Dan - ”

“Phil - ”

“I'm sorry,” Phil blurts out before Dan can say anything else. “You don't have to tell me - I know how it's like. I know how you feel. Just," here he swallows, “just know that I'm here for you. You know that.”

Dan's throat constricts.

He doesn't know if he wants to laugh or to cry. Laugh, because right now the setting is so cliche it's almost funny - holding each other's hands on a park bench surrounded with flowers in the middle of spring. Cry, because Phil cares so so much, and Dan’s not sure if he can handle that amount of care.

(he remembers a certain night, a long time ago, when Phil had said something similar. something that made Dan feel like he understood.)

(he didn't tell Phil anything that night.)

Phil squeezes again, and when Dan looks up, he offers a small smile. The affection in his eyes is unmistakable.

And Dan just - he just -

He tells Phil everything.

He tells Phil about those nights when he would lie on his bed and gaze up at the ceiling, and wonder just what, exactly, was so wrong about him that even his parents hated him - his parents, who were supposed to love him more than anyone else in the world. He tells Phil how he toyed with the notion of dropping out, then gave up because the last thing he wanted to be was a failure. He tells Phil about all his demons and all his insecurities and how, sometimes, he just wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

He's crying now, he realises. He's dripping snot and tears all over his hoodie, and he can't bring himself to care.

Phil says, “Dan,” and then, “Oh, _Dan_ ,” and he sounds so broken and so sad that Dan starts crying harder.

So much of what he's trying to say is getting lost amidst the sobbing - it's getting to the point of incoherence, but he doesn't care, he just keeps going on and on. He tells Phil that he hasn't felt like this in ages, he doesn't know why he's like this now. He tells Phil that maybe he's just been bottling it up and distracting himself all this time, and he didn't know. He tells Phil that his problems are nothing compared to other people, the ones who have it way worse, the starving children, the orphans - but he doesn't know why he's so sad.

Phil holds him tight as he cries. He traces circles on Dan’s back and runs his fingers through Dan’s hair. He lets Dan cry all over his shirt and he doesn't say anything about it, just holds him tighter so Dan can feel the shuddering of his chest.

“It'll be fine,” he says. “We'll figure it out,” he whispers, again and again. “We'll figure it out.”

And for once, Dan lets himself believe him.

 

  
***

 

  
He only stops crying when he runs out of tears. He'd tried to choke them down a few times, tried to force them back down, but then Phil had pressed his hand against Dan’s back and said, clear as day, though not in words, _don't hold back. I'm here for you. just let it out_.

So he did.

Neither of them move for a long long time. Dan presses his head into Phil's shoulder, and Phil continues rubbing circles on Dan’s back. They breathe in sync - in and out, inhale and exhale, in time to nothing but the rhythm of their heartbeats - and though Dan knows that he's the only one who's been crying, it feels like both of them are calming down from something.

Dan thinks he might not ever want to move. This moment is perfect - if he could freeze time, he thinks he would do it now. But he can't, so he just closes his eyes and breathes in Phil’s scent and lets Phil's touch warm him from the inside out.

Somewhere in the midst of all the tears, the sadness had gone away. Dan realises this with a jolt, realises that while there's still a layer of darkness over everything, the sun is bright. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming, big and beautiful.

And Phil is here.

(he didn't leave. he didn't say _oh god you're problematic_. he didn't try to awkwardly remove himself from the conversation.)

Phil's still here.

When they finally separate, Dan can't help but cling on for another moment before letting go.

After a second, Phil gets up first, offering his hand to Dan with a smile. Dan takes it, and Phil pulls him up to his feet. They both stumble a little, nearly falling over each other, and Dan uses the back of his other hand to wipe his eyes as he hiccups and laughs.

They don't have to talk about it - they never do. A gentle squeeze of the hand is enough to say _thank you, that meant a lot_  and a returning smile is enough to say _you're welcome, I'm always here for you_. Sometimes things don't have to be said aloud to be meaningful - in their case, that's something that constantly rings true.

After the weight of unspoken words has settled, Phil says, quite abruptly, “I used to love metallic green envelopes as a kid.”

Dan lets out a surprised laugh. “Wow. You must have been a weird kid, huh?”

“I was,” Phil sighs. “Till this day I still don't understand - I had many weird obsessions when I was young, but this is by far the weirdest.”

“I'll get you a metallic green envelope for your next birthday, then.”

“Nah, no thanks. I think I've outgrown it now.”

“Oh, pity.”

There's a short silence, then Dan says, “When I was a kid I hated sunflowers.”

It's Phil’s turn to laugh. “Why?”

Dan wrinkles his nose. “They're so hairy, and tall, and just…eugh. They reminded me of monster heads.”

“Don't be like that, Dan, you'll hurt their feelings. I'm pretty sure there's a sunflower around here listening.”

“Well, too bad. It's what they get for being taller than me - can you imagine flowers being taller than humans, for god's sake?”

“Dan,” Phil says, “Have you ever heard of trees?”

“That's - different!”

“Different how?” and yes, Phil's definitely teasing now. Dan doesn't miss the quirk of his lips as he continues, “They're both plants, aren't they?”

“Well, yeah, but - trees are meant to be tall. Flowers aren't.”

Phil raises his eyebrow. “Actually - ”

“Oh, shut up, you spork,” says Dan without any real heat, and Phil just about trips over laughing. Dan has to use their linked hands to pull him upright again.

When they reach the coffee shop, Dan catches a glimpse of their reflection in the glass. The rightness of the image nearly takes him aback - the way he and Phil fit perfectly into each other's sides, hair swept in opposite directions, hands linked like they were meant to be.

He stares at the reflection for a while, and god -

He wants that. He wants to hold hands with Phil for an eternity. He wants to tug Phil closer at night before they fall asleep and he wants to make breakfast for Phil in the mornings. He wants to be able to press kisses to Phil's knuckles for no real reason at all. He wants and he wants and he _wants_ -

“What are you looking at?” Phil asks, coming to a stop beside him.

Dan blinks. “Oh - uh - I look like a mess.” It's true, actually - his hair is in need of a good straightening and his eyes are red and puffy. He rubs a hand across the tear stains on his cheeks.

Phil steps closer, letting go of Dan’s hand to pull at the curl falling down his forehead. Dan’s breath hitches, and he goes still.

“Well,” says Phil, breath ghosting Dan’s ear. “I don't really mind.” He pulls back, smiles small and quick, and adds, “I like you anyway.”

Then Phil is gone, and Dan is left blinking at the dark cherry wood of the coffee shop door as it creaks shut. The sign swings a little back and forth, before coming to a stop.

_I like you anyway -_

In a flash, Dan jolts back to life. It takes him half a second to push open the door, and another half to step inside.

“Hey, wait up - Phil? Phil!”

 

  
***

 

 

Later, when he's lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and mapping out the cracks, he gets a text from Phil.

He almost gives himself whiplash with how quickly he sits up.

_From: Philly_

_My turn to analyse you ;)_  
 _1\. You think a lot. Sometimes you think too much about too many things at once, but you never say any of it out loud._  
2\. You think in a way that's different, and I like that. You get lost in your mind sometimes, and I don't blame you one bit, because it's a really beautiful place. I wouldn't mind getting lost in there, too.  
3.When your dimple appears in your cheek, that's when it's a real smile.  
4.You like to build up walls and you like to use sarcasm and humour to block out the things that worry you the most. (I've been there, too.)  
5.You consider yourself a coward, but you're not. You think you're insignificant, unimportant, but you're not. You're brave and you're needed and you're the strongest person I know. (Though not physically of course. I bet I could beat you at arm wrestling any day)

Dan’s smile is so wide it nearly splits his face in half.

( _God_ , he loves the guy.)

 

  
***

 

  
Brave. He's _brave_. He's not a coward. He has courage, somewhere deep down inside him, he just needs to find it.

_You're brave and you're needed and you're the strongest person I know -_

She picks up on the third ring, just like she always has.

“Mum?”

He swallows, braces himself for the impact about to come. He can feel it.

“What - what would you say if I told you I wanted to drop out?”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> celebration!
> 
> (A/N: sorry for the wait!)

"Hey,” Phil says. “Where are all the stars?”

Dan shrugs. He's not sure. He's not sure where he and Phil are, either. There's nothing but black sky, all around them, and Dan thinks that if he swings his feet he might kick a star, send it bouncing and spiralling like the sparkles of magic from a fairy’s wand.

Except he doesn't. Because there are no stars. There's only blackness.

“I'm worried,” Phil says. He turns to Dan, threading their fingers together. “It's not normal.”

“I'm not normal,” says Dan, “but you don't seem to mind.”

Phil laughs. “Normalness leads to sadness. I'm glad you're not normal. I like you when you're yourself.”

“But I'm sad, too,” Dan says. His eyebrows furrow. “And you don't mind?”

“No,” says Phil simply. “I don't mind.”

Then he hops off whatever they were sitting on and extends a hand to Dan. Dan takes it.

“Come on,” Phil says. “Let's explore this place.”

So they do. Dan's still not sure what they're walking on, but it's solid, and that's good enough. It's good enough for Phil, anyhow, so it's good enough for Dan too.

This place is weird. There is light, but then there aren't any stars, so Dan's not sure where the light is coming from. There's no moon, or sun, or anything - when he looks up all he can see is endless black sky.

Eventually, though, the darkness in front of them peters out, revealing a life-size llama, cast into a spotlight that doesn't seem to exist. Phil raises an eyebrow and smiles.

Dan feels, oddly, like he has to explain himself. “I like llamas. They're cute.”

Phil says, “I like llamas, too.”

Dan smiles. They walk on.

They pass many more things. A Gameboy, a laptop, a badminton racquet with its strings cut. A piano, old and wooden and all the keys in the wrong order. A stack of law books, pages yellow with age. Some of these things are in spotlights; others, in total darkness. Many times, Dan didn't know what he was holding until Phil reached out and brushed his fingertips across the object, and suddenly Dan could see.

So many things, but still no stars.

“Where are we?” Phil keeps asking, craning his neck around. “Where are all the stars?”

Dan doesn't reply, because he doesn't know.

(but…)

(all this darkness is starting to look familiar.)

Some time later, they come face to face with a gigantic coffee mug, taller than them both. This one is in the brightest spotlight by far, so Dan can see every miniscule detail. Perched on the rim are two small figures - one with brown curls, the other with a black fringe. They are smiling, up at the starless sky.

“Look,” says Phil softly. “Are those us?”

Dan shrugs. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of coffee, and when he opens his eyes again there are two new blond-haired figures. Now Brown-curls and Black-fringe are holding hands, smiling at each other instead of the sky.

Oh.

Dan thinks, a little sadly, that he understands now. He understands why this place is so dark, so devoid of light most of the time. He understands all too well.

After all, he's been here before. Countless times.

Dan sighs.

Phil asks, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dan says, and then for the first time, he looks at Phil. _Properly_ looks - he takes in every detail he can see.

Black hair, pale skin. No, he's not describing a vampire. Freckles along the curve of his cheekbone.

Long limbs - too long limbs. One hand in his pocket, the other holding Dan's. Legs in black skinny jeans, ones without rips because he wasn't allowed to wear those as a kid.

A smile so bright it hurts to look at it. Eyes - _oh_ , eyes - three colours, blue and yellow and green at the same time, filled with stars, glittering and magical -

Dan says, helplessly, “ _Phil_.”

Phil looks at him. “Yes?”

“Please don't leave,” Dan says. “Please never leave, Phil, I - ”

“I won't,” Phil says, but Dan thinks that he will, somehow, and then this place will remain forever dark, and he needs Phil to stay because of the stars, because of the light he shines, because -

“I like you,” Dan blurts, and then, “No, I love you. I love you so much, you don't even know, and please stay, please, please never leave, I need you, I - ”

“Dan,” Phil says, and a star flies out of his mouth. Dan falls silent.

“Dan,” Phil says again, and then there are stars everywhere. They're spiralling from his fingertips and falling from his eyelashes and shooting up up up into the sky, slotting into place and casting a glow over everything.

Phil, sounding wrecked, says, “Dan, I - ”

Dan thinks, desperately, _please don't say anything, don't, please stay, I love you, please say what I want you to, please don't leave._

_Please._

 

  
***

 

  
Dan wakes up with ice-cold fingers of fear gripping his heart, and Phil’s name balanced on the tip of his tongue.

It takes him a moment to realise where he is, in the quiet of his room, moonlight filtering in through the window blinds. It takes another moment for the images to fade away like water swirling down a drain, escaping between his grappling fingers. All that's left is an odd watercolour mixture of feelings he can't really decipher - _please_ and _I want_ and _wow_.

He gets up, pulls his dream journal from under his pillow. He writes, under the entry that mentions flamingos:

\- coffee phil stars

Then he closes it, slides it back under his pillow, and goes back to sleep.

 

  
***

 

  
When Dan wakes up again, it's to the incessant buzzing of his phone. He gropes around blearily for a moment, then swipes right without looking at the screen.

“Hello?” He sounds like a frog. Like a really old frog with nasal issues.

Fuck, he needs coffee. It's not even nine am yet. Whoever called him is going to be dead.

“Dan!” says Phil, bright and chipper, and Dan is suddenly a lot more awake.

“Phil? What - why are you - ”

“Felt like it,” Phil says simply. “Wanted to hear your voice.”

Dan blinks, momentarily lost for words. Phil takes advantage of his silence to add, “You sound like a frog with nasal issues, by the way. Have you just woken up?”

Dan says, poor sleep-hazed brain still struggling to catch up, “I sound like a what?”

Phil sighs with all the weariness of an eighty-year-old. “A frog. With nasal issues. Frogs are creatures that go,” and here he proceeds to do a fairly passable imitation of a frog croaking, “in case you didn't know. And you sound like one.”

Dan thinks, very clearly, _what_ , and thus begins his spiral into the depths of insanity.

“Dan?” Phil sounds like he's trying very hard not to laugh. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Dan says honestly. “I'm not. I'm still asleep, actually, and this is all a dream, isn't it? This is just a dream. Right?”

Phil laughs, and Dan’s lips involuntarily tick upwards.

“Yep. All a dream. Who's to say what's a dream and what's not? Maybe life isn't real, maybe we're all simulations - ”

“Stop,” Dan groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “Okay, okay. I'm awake now.” He sits up, running a hand through his hair, then glances at the window - the sun is already pretty high up in the sky, and Dan can see dust particles floating around in the rays of light streaming in through the window blinds.

Oh well. He might as well get up now.

“Great!” Phil says, smile evident in his voice. Then, softer, “By the way, are you feeling okay?”

 _Oh_. Dan smiles, tilting his face up to the ceiling. “Yes. Thank you. For putting up with me yesterday, I mean. I must have been a mess.”

He tucks the instinctive _sorry you had to deal with me_  into the back pocket of his mind and leaves it there. Thank yous are more important than sorrys, he thinks, and besides, he knows what Phil would say: that he has nothing to apologise for.

(he reckons he could learn to believe that, maybe. one day. someday. he _would_.)

Phil chuckles. “Anytime,” he says, the warmth in his voice curling around Dan’s heart. “You owe me a coffee, is all.”

Before Dan can protest or agree or say something stupid like _i owe you so much more_ , Phil plows on:

“And anyway, you would have done the same for me, wouldn't you?”

And Dan thinks, _yes_.

_For you, I would do anything._

 

  
***

 

_From: Mum_

_Your father and I discussed it, and we’ve decided to think about it. It's not a definite yes, but not a definite no, either. But at least complete your first year, okay? xx_

Dan thinks, with a touch of amazement, that his room has never seemed so bright. He presses his palm to the golden patch of sunlight on his bed, soaking up the warmth.

Then he looks up to the cracks on the ceiling, and smiles.

 

***

 

  
Dan spends the rest of the day longing to see Phil. There's no other, less blatant way to put it - he just wants to see Phil, and talk to him, and tell him about the text his mum sent. He wants to watch Phil break out into one of those happy grins, the ones that he can never help but smile back at, the ones that remind him of a sunflower in bloom.

(he's grown to quite like sunflowers after all.)

The longing - no, the _need_ \- forms an itch under his skin. The bubble of happiness in his chest doesn't seem quite complete, somehow, without Phil there to share it. He fidgets so much during a lecture that his professor actually stops halfway through his speech to ask him about it - or rather, embarrass him in front of the entire class.

“Soul mate troubles, Daniel?”

Dan stops twirling his pen abruptly. “Uh - no, Professor. Sorry.” It's only then that he realises - everyone's eyes are on him, some amused, some judgemental, and it takes all of Dan’s willpower not to cringe visibly or run out of the room.

“That means yes, then,” his professor declares, and a few people titter. Dan feels himself redden even further, and he ducks his head. It takes him a few minutes before he feels anonymous enough to raise it again.

Mercifully, the lecture carries on without any further mention of Dan. The moment it ends, Dan makes a bolt for the door, desperate for a breath of fresh air before the next class starts. He has ten minutes, and for a moment he considers just telling Phil about the text through text - how meta, he thinks, then laughs to himself - but no. This feels too important to not say face-to-face.

In the end, he types: _u free tonight?_

He knows what the answer will be - after all, he's long since committed Phil's schedule to memory. _No_ , he's not a creep, he just has an outstanding memory when it comes to Phil.

Sure enough, Phil replies half a minute later.

_Sorry, no, there's a lit club meeting :(_

Dan sighs.

 _okay_ , he types. _just wanted to talk to u :(_

He stares at the screen for a moment longer, then slips his phone back into his pocket and starts heading back to the lecture theatre. The disappointment threatens to weigh him down with every step he takes.

Then his phone pings.

_From: Philly_

_Tomorrow? :D_

 

  
***

 

  
“Two coffees, please. Takeaway.”

The guy at the counter just stares at him, deadpan, and Dan shifts uncomfortably from his right foot to the left and back again. Not for the first time that morning, he wonders what, exactly, he's doing in the university cafe at half past six on a Saturday morning. The sun hasn't even risen yet, for fuck’s sake, and there's no reason for him to not be in his bed right now.

Except there is. A reason that starts with the letter P, ends with the letter L, and rhymes with the word thrill. Because surprising Phil is always a thrill, especially when Dan is doing it out of free will, and it's honestly no surprise that Dan's sanity is steadily going downhill - he has to stop. This is what happens when he wakes up early.

He sighs, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and says again, “Um, two - ”

“I heard you,” the guy grunts, turning abruptly away from Dan. “Jeez.”

Dan blinks. “Okay,” he says to no one. Two minutes of silence later, the guy turns back around with two paper cups. Dan pays hurriedly, then half-jogs out of the cafe, trying to prevent any sloshing as he goes.

He slows to a walk outside, letting his feet carry him in the direction of Phil’s hall. The campus is quiet at this hour, when the sky is still dark and virtually everyone's asleep - it's a Saturday, after all. The air is cool, as early morning spring air always is; Dan takes in deep lungfuls of it and lets the breeze caress his hair.

It seems like no time at all before he's standing outside the door of Phil’s room. After struggling, for a long moment, to balance both paper cups on one hand, Dan gives up and sets one down on the carpeted floor. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he knocks three times in quick succession, _rat tat tat_ on the wood of the door, loud enough that it echoes a little down the hallway.

One second passes. Dan picks up the paper cup from the floor, and waits.

Another second passes, and Dan promptly starts freaking out.

What was he thinking? What is he _doing_? Why is he even here at all? It's barely even seven o'clock, on a Saturday, for goodness’ sake, and he's standing outside Phil’s door holding a cup of coffee in each hand like a _complete idiot_ -

The door opens, and Dan jumps.

“Dan?”

Phil blinks slowly at him, one hand on the door frame. He's wearing blue Cookie Monster pyjama pants, and a white t shirt. There's a pillow imprint on his cheek, and his glasses are resting crookedly on his nose. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his eyes are half-lidded as he looks at Dan.

Dan thinks, helplessly, _fuck_.

Because Phil is - Phil is bloody gorgeous, that's what. Even when he looks like he just woke up. _Especially_ when he looks like he just woke up, because then he's all sleep-rumpled and soft and so fucking adorable that Dan immediately loses the ability to even _think_ clearly and coherently in his presence, much less speak. He doesn't trust himself to speak right now. He's afraid that all that will come out of his mouth is _fuck you're beautiful_ and _every day I'm falling more and more in love with you_ and _please can I take you home with me?_

And the thing is -

“Dan?” Phil says again, head tilted at an angle. He's smiling now, that type of smile he only reserves for Dan, and Dan’s poor heart does a double somersault before landing bruised and battered on the base of his rib cage.

“You're,” Dan says, then starts to cough. He averts his eyes from Phil, staring determinedly at the carpet beneath his feet as his cheeks start to burn. “Sorry, I mean, uh - ”

A heartbeat passes, then Dan blurts, “Coffee.” Abruptly, he thrusts a paper cup into Phil’s free hand, and Phil blinks. Dan wants to dig a hole in the carpeted floor and hide away forever.

“Coffee,” Phil repeats, still smiling. “You brought coffee?” He sounds bemusedly fond.

Dan shrugs, aiming for casual and failing miserably. “I owe you, remember?”

Phil doesn't reply. Instead, he studies Dan for a long moment, not bothering to hide his huge smile. His eyes rove over Dan’s face, and Dan touches his (burning) cheeks a little self-consciously, wondering what's wrong.

“What are you…”

Phil's eyes, startlingly ocean-like in the dim light of the hallway, return to Dan’s. “Nothing,” he says, then breaks out into a laugh, warm and deep. Dan stares back at him, slightly bewildered but also ridiculously endeared.

“Just…”

Phil leans forward, then reaches out and traces a fingertip over Dan's earlobe, barely grazing the black earring there. The touch, gentle and hesitant, leaves a trail of warmth in its wake. Dan almost spontaneously combusts right there and then - as it is, he just shuts his eyes and tries his best to fight down his blush.

It's almost laughable, Dan thinks, how even just one brush of contact from Phil can get him this flustered. And yet he can't help it. He never can, when it comes to Phil.

The touch lingers for a moment, then Phil withdraws his hand. When Dan opens his eyes again, more-than-slightly dazed, Phil’s grinning at him.

“Your ears are really red.” Phil says, the familiar teasing lilt to his voice.

The moment breaks. Dan splutters - whether in embarrassment or in indignation he doesn't know. “Fuck off,” he says, face flaming. “I brought you coffee, you spork.”

(he tries very hard to ignore the possibility that Phil might be - um.)

“And you woke me up from a wonderful dream,” says Phil without missing a beat. “It's a Saturday morning, Daniel.” He turns around to step into his room, and Dan follows him in, closing the door behind them.

“And you woke me up yesterday!” Dan says, not bothering to tone down the whininess in his voice. “I was dreaming too!”

Phil sets down his cup of coffee. “Yeah - well, my dream was definitely way better. Better than any dream anyone could ever have.”

“Why?” Dan asks, leaning against Phil’s cluttered desk. He does genuinely want to know.

Phil looks at him, eyes twinkling. For a long moment, no one speaks, and then Phil says, a smile playing at the corner of his lips:

“Because it had you in it.”

 

  
***

 

  
A minute later, Dan’s still got his bright red face buried in his hands.

“I'm sorry,” Phil says, voice shaking with helpless laughter. The bed trembles. “I'm really sorry, I didn't think it would cause you this much - this much trauma, I didn't know, I'm sorry - ”

Dan cuts him off with a dragged-out groan, and Phil just about falls over laughing. After Phil’s calmed down somewhat, Dan lifts his head from his hands and says, very firmly, “Phil Lester. Listen to me. You are not allowed to say things like this ever again, you hear me?”

“Why not?” Phil asks cheekily.

For a moment, Dan flounders, mind going blank. “Um - ”

“Yeah?” Phil prompts.

“Because,” Dan declares after a too-long pause. “Just because.”

Phil laughs again. “Right.” His hand shifts to cover Dan’s knee, and for a few moments they sit there like that, watching the first rays of sunlight filter in through the windows. Dan cradles the cup of warm coffee in his hands, studiously avoiding looking at Phil. He doesn't think he would be able to manage it, after all of - after all of this, whatever this is. His face is already red enough as it is.

After a while, Phil removes his hand and stands up, stretching. He swats at Dan. “Move, rat. I need to go wash up.”

Dan can't resist sticking his tongue out at Phil before letting him pass. Phil just rolls his eyes, fond exasperation crinkling the corners, and Dan’s heart does another helpless flip-flop.

He watches Phil make his way through the room, in his absurd pyjama pants and mismatched socks. When Phil reaches the door, he shoots a smile over his shoulder, all bright teeth and twinkling eyes, and Dan returns it weakly.

The moment Phil closes the door behind him, Dan buries his face into his hands again and groans.

 

  
***

 

  
Phil returns approximately ten minutes later, hair immaculate and smile bright. Dan nearly loses his composure again at the sight of him, but barely manages to keep it together.

Before he forgets - or maybe before he loses the courage - he says, “Phil, remember what I said about dropping out?”

The words still sting, somehow. Dropping out. Some part of him, the part that still wants so badly to please his parents, hates the way the words sound. They sound like failure, like disappointment, like everything Dan’s ever been afraid of. Before he knows it, the voices take root again, casting seeds of poison everywhere: incompetent. fool. useless son. do you really want to do this?

(does he? does he want that sort of future? would he be happy?)

“Yeah?”

Dan blinks. His fists are clenched. He hadn't noticed.

Phil walks over, then gently prises his fingers apart. He slots his own fingers between Dan’s instead, and Dan lets him.

“Phil,” Dan says, struggling to keep his voice steady, “do you think I would be happy?”

For a long moment, Phil doesn't say anything. Then he says, “Are you happy now?”

The first thought that comes to Dan is with you, yes. But he knows that Phil isn't referring to that - not now, anyway - so he swallows the words back down.

“You mean uni?”

“Yeah.” Phil turns to look at him, blue eyes serious and unblinking. “Would you be happy, continuing like this?”

Dan says, “No,” without even thinking. He doesn't want to continue. He doesn't want to go on studying in university and finish his law degree and eventually land a job as a lawyer. He knows without a doubt that he wouldn't be happy there. He would be miserable, and he doesn't want to be.

“Then go,” says Phil. “Go on, then. Find your passion. It's okay to give up, sometimes. Persevering at something you dislike won't make you happy, and happiness is what's most important in life, isn't it?”

Dan swallows, his heart lifting. “Yeah. Okay.”

He doesn't need to say any more. He squeezes Phil’s hand instead, and Phil looks at him and smiles.

A moment later, Dan says, “Actually, about that - ”

“I knew it,” Phil exclaims. “You have good news, don't you, I could tell when you came in - how could you keep it from me for so long, I was practically bursting the entire time and yet you wouldn't say - ”

Dan's laughing now, giggling with the giddy excitement of a twelve-year-old with a crush. He leans back on his arms, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. “It's honestly nothing, really - ”

“Spill,” Phil demands, clambering over so that he's practically sitting on Dan’s lap. This close, Dan can see the flecks of green in his eyes, the freckles on his cheek. “Come on, Dan.”

“Shut up,” says Dan, but Phil plows on, whining in a way that makes Dan crack up helplessly, which in turn just makes Phil whine harder for Dan to get on with it - it's a vicious cycle, Dan decides, and he puts an end to it by covering Phil's mouth with his hand. The moment he realises how close they are, he drops his hand hastily, cheeks reddening.

Phil’s eyes twinkle at him in a way that's all too close to knowing.

Dan clears his throat. “Well - so, about the dropping out thing - my mum said no at first, but she changed her mind, so now - well, it's not a yes, yet, but it's a possible.” He gives up trying to hold back his smile, letting a grin bloom across his face.

Phil looks positively delighted.

“That's incredible!”

“Yeah,” Dan says, then laughs again out of sheer happiness. “It is.”

Phil's watching him with a look of such warm affection that his stomach swoops. Dan has to look away.

“You know what, this calls for a celebration.”

Dan quirks an eyebrow at him, smiling. “A celebration?”

“Yeah,” says Phil, sitting up properly. “Where do you want to go?”

There's a short, thoughtful silence, then Dan says, “I don't know.” Wherever you go.

Phil says, “Hmm,” then right on cue, their phones beep. A moment later, they both look up from their screens with matching grins.

_Ty The Coolest: anyone up for mario kart?_

 

***

 

  
Tyler's grin is all-too-knowing as he ushers them in. Dan can't control his blush at all, and he hates it.

“You two came together?” Tyler asks, all casual.

“Yep,” says Phil happily. “This guy brought me coffee.” Dan tries not to redden further, and fails.

When Phil turns his back to set up the game, Tyler raises an eyebrow at Dan. Dan glares back with all the energy he can muster.

Tyler laughs, then shoots Dan a finger heart.

Dan scowls. Bastard.

Louise arrives a while later. By way of greeting, she throws a huge paper bag at Phil's head, who fumbles and drops it on the carpet, because of course. Dan says fondly, “You living flop,” and Phil kicks half-heartedly in his direction before picking up the bag.

“Louise,” he says wondrously a moment later, eyes wide. “You brought crisps.”

Tyler perks up immediately. “Really? Tiger Mum brought crisps? Well, who would have thought - ”

“Shut up,” says Louise, settling down onto the sofa, “or you won't get any.”

Tyler shuts up. Dan says, “Lou, _I love you_ , have I ever told you that?”

“Me too,” Phil adds, starry-eyed.

“Me three,” Tyler pipes up after a while, grinning hopefully at Louise.

Louise rolls her eyes and smiles. “Oh, fine. Go on then.”

The words hang in the air for one long moment, then there's a sudden mad flurry of movement as Dan, Phil and Tyler all dive for the crisp bag. Phil, for all his lack of reflexes, actually emerges victorious, but not for long, as Tyler snatches it for him a second later.

“You're all oversized puppies, I swear,” says Louise, looking down at them. “I don't mean that as a compliment.”

“Whatever,” says Dan happily, licking cheese and onion dust from his fingers.

 

  
***

 

  
Three-quarters of the way into a Netflix movie, Tyler suddenly sits up ramrod straight.

“Guys,” he says. “I have a date.”

Dan splutters. “You have a date? Well, poor guy, is all I can say - ”

“It's in fifteen minutes.” Tyler says loudly. His voice pitches up high. “It's in fifteen fucking minutes, oh my god - ”

Louise reaches over and presses pause on the remote. Phil says, softly, “Oh.”

Two minutes later, Tyler's nowhere to be seen. Dan can hear the thump of clothes being thrown on the floor, as well as a constant stream of indecipherable noises through the wall.

“Can we go now?” Louise yells.

“Go!” comes Tyler's voice, verging on the edge of hysterical. He pokes his head out of his room, wild-eyed. “Go, go, go, I'm sorry, just - ”

“Have fun on your date!” Phil shouts, giggling.

“Fuck off,” is the muffled reply, and Dan can't help but laugh as Louise ushers him and Phil out of the door.

“I have to go too,” she says when they reach the ground floor. “Just remembered - I have homework. Like, a shit ton.”

Phil sighs. “Okay, then. So it'll just be me and Dan?”

“Yep,” Louise chirps. “Bye, boys.” She aims a very obvious wink at Dan as she leaves, and Dan blinks before it dawns on him just what she's doing.

“Bye, Lou,” he grits out. Louise winks at him again.

“Bye!” Phil says, apparently delighted. The moment Louise disappears around a corner, he turns to Dan, grin adorning his face.

“Coffee?”

Dan beams.

“Always.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelation no. 3

The days pass, one by one at first, then seemingly all at once, like grains of sand slipping between outstretched fingers. Dan finds himself constantly oscillating between giddy excitement for the future, and the warm, honey-like happiness that only his friends can provide.

That's not to say that it's all perfect, though, because it's not. There are days when they're all irritable, when Louise snaps and Tyler rolls his eyes and Phil sighs and Dan doesn't say anything at all. There are days when it seems as if all they can do is disagree with one another, and the air is tight like a pulled string and nothing seems to go right. But that's fine, because the next day the clouds clear and the sun peeks out again, and it's as easy as anything to fall back into laughter.

Then of course, there's the all-consuming _want_ that fills Dan from head to toe whenever Phil - well, whenever Phil breathes, basically. It's evolved into a sort of quiet heartache by now, the gentle tugging of his heartstrings when Phil looks over and smiles or speaks or laughs. Every day, Dan thinks that perhaps he's gotten used to it, perhaps he'll be able to catch his breath today, perhaps, _perhaps_ \- but then Phil grabs his hand and tugs at his curls and Dan falls for him all over again.

It's ridiculous. It's completely and utterly ridiculous and Dan’s heart is in tatters.

“You're pining,” says Louise one day, amidst the noise and bustle of the coffee shop.

Dan has to drag his gaze away from Phil, working diligently a distance away. “Sorry?”

Louise looks at him for a long moment, then chuckles. “Dan, you're pining.”

“Oh,” Dan says, rather stupidly. He sighs, then downs the last of his latte. “Yeah, well.”

Tyler says, “ _Mate_.” He sounds a mixture of sympathetic and amused. “You're whipped.”

“I know,” says Dan, half to himself, half to the table. “I know.”

“What do you know?” Phil asks out of nowhere, and Dan’s head snaps up so fast it hurts. Phil's standing by their booth, leaning on the table with his elbows and looking between the three of them with an amused twinkle in his eye.

Louise snorts. Dan aims a kick at her under the table, and misses.

“Nothing,” Tyler says cheerfully. “Dan knows absolutely nothing.”

“Neither do you,” says Dan, avoiding eye contact with Phil. He can feel the tips of his ears burning. “You're an idiot.”

Tyler laughs. “Thanks.”

“Oh, come off it,” says Louise. “We all know nothing. Nothing important, anyway.”

“That's quite true,” Phil says. “Though I like to think that I have basic survival skills, at least.”

“You don't,” Dan says immediately. “You once melted your entire toaster because you forgot you were making toast.”

Phil pouts, and Dan wants to die. “That was once!”

“You routinely forget your lefts and your rights.”

“That was - ” Phil pauses, then scrunches up his nose. “...four times. Fine.”

“Only four times?” Tyler asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I can remember at least five,” Dan sighs. “Truly tragic. I'm ashamed to call you my friend, Phil.”

(he wants to be so much more.)

Phil shoves at him, grinning. His tongue pokes through his teeth. “Shut up, rat.”

Dan grins back. “I won't. Too bad. You'll just have to get used to me.”

“I already have,” Phil remarks. “A long time ago, in fact.”

“Is that a compliment?” Dan teases.

Phil shrugs. “You can take it any way you wish.” He smiles, shy and sweet, and for a moment Dan forgets how to breathe.

“Guys,” Louise says loudly, “Tyler and I have to go.”

“We do?” Tyler asks.

“Yep,” says Louise, then she all but drags Tyler up from his seat and to the door. “Bye, guys!”

“Bye,” Dan says faintly.

“Bye!” Phil says happily, waving. Tyler waves back, then shoots a wink at Dan.

Dan scowls back. He has to hastily rearrange his features into a semblance of a smile when Phil turns back around, and he hears Louise snorting again on her way out.

 _Fuck them_ , Dan thinks without any real heat.

“You know,” Phil says contemplatively, pulling Dan from his thoughts, “I was just thinking. That day didn't really feel like a celebration, did it?”

Dan props himself up with his elbows, smiling at Phil. “Not really, no. But it was great.”

“Well - yeah,” says Phil. His eyes dart to the side, coming to rest on the woodgrain swirls of the table. “Um.”

“Yeah?” Dan prompts. It's rather interesting to watch the blush spread from Phil's cheeks to his entire face, he thinks, but then he's probably imagining it.

Phil clears his throat, then seems to make a decision. “D’you want to, um, walk around the city or something? I'm free the whole day.”

Dan stares.

(is Phil actually blushing?)

“I mean,” Phil blurts, “only if you want to. And, like. There's an arcade somewhere around here? And - um. Stuff? We can watch a movie.”

The last part comes out almost as a question. Dan finds it adorable.

“Sure,” he says after a moment. His heart feels like a puddle of squish, and his face aches just a little from trying to keep his smile from getting too big.

“Great,” says Phil a little too quickly. “Great!” He beams, and Dan gives up trying to hold back his grin.

“Where are we going?”

 

  
***

 

  
This isn't a date, Dan tells himself. It's not, because if it was, then practically every moment he spent with Phil alone could be considered a date - meeting up at the coffee shop, going for walks in the park, Mario Kart and Netflix and pizza. And those are definitely not dates. Those are just - just spending time with a friend. Platonically, of course.

So it's not a date. It's not.

But why does it feel like it is?

“Hurry up,” Phil shouts from the front, turning around to face Dan. “Slowpoke!”

Dan rolls his eyes and smiles, then quickens his footsteps.

 

  
***

 

  
Three hours later, they emerge from the underground arcade, punch-drunk and giggling. The world feels pleasantly lopsided, tilted at an angle that's just enough to make them stumble but not fall flat on the ground. Though Phil comes incredibly close - Dan has to grab his arm to prevent him from falling over, then Phil nearly falls on Dan instead.

Which is incredibly funny. Everything seems incredibly funny right now, from the pigeons hopping around on the cobblestone to the oddly-shaped cloud in the sky.

“That's a dragon,” Phil says decidedly.

“No it's not,” Dan says back. He starts to giggle. “It looks like - a dick.”

Phil stares at him for one scandalously horrified second, then bursts out into laughter as well. “You're right,” he chokes out, reaching out to grab hold of Dan’s shoulder. “You're bloody right, oh my god - ”

“Of course I'm right,” Dan says, biting his lip, then he gives up and allows the wave of helpless laughter to wash over him.

They stumble down the street like this, clutching at each other for balance whenever one of them laughs too hard. Dan feels like he's been drugged - drugged with Phil, with Phil's company, with Phil's laugh - he feels impossibly warm, both inside and out, and the effect is somewhat like drinking one of Phil's coffees, just a lot more intense.

(he suspects it's the arcade.)

(there's always something about the arcade, isn't there?)

“You still owe me a drink from the game,” Phil says suddenly, punching Dan lightly on the shoulder. “Don't think I've forgotten, because I haven't, and I will torment you about this till the day I die.”

Dan laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay - jeez. And people say I'm the competitive one.”

“They don't know me,” says Phil, half-teasing. “Not like you do.”

“Yeah,” Dan says softly. He looks at Phil, bright and smiling and glowing under the afternoon sunlight, and he has to look away again before the growing swell of affection threatens to knock him off his feet.

(it's too much, is what it is.)

(it's just - Phil is so close. and his eyes are so blue, and his smile is so bright, and Dan is - oh, Dan is so, _so_ smitten.)

“Phil.” Dan blurts. “Phil, I - ”

Phil tilts his head and looks at him. “Yeah?”

“I,” Dan says, then his throat clams up. He forces his eyes back onto the ground. “I - nothing.”

(what was he thinking? what was he doing? where was he going with that sentence?)

Phil says, “Hmm,” then reaches out and grabs Dan's hand, lacing their fingers together. When Dan blinks at him, Phil just smiles, swinging their hands back and forth.

And just like that - Dan’s heart melts again. He can't pinpoint why, but something about that action is just so sweet - platonic or not, he doesn't really care at this point. All that matters is Phil’s hand in his, pressing comfort into his palm.

(he thinks he could stay like this forever, just holding hands and nothing else.)

“Hey, Dan?”

Dan tears his gaze away from their joined hands. “Yeah?”

“I bet I can run down this street faster than you.”

Dan splutters. “Of course not. I have longer legs, for one - ”

“ _Three-two-one-go!_ ” Phil yells, then he lets go of Dan’s hand and starts sprinting. Dan stands there for a moment in shock, then bursts into laughter and starts chasing after Phil.

Dan was never made for exercise - he'd choose the internet over physical activity any day. But Phil's ignited a strange spark of competitiveness in him that can't be extinguished, so he ignores all the strange looks thrown their way and forces himself to put one foot after the other. The wind whips through his hair, carrying the sound of Phil's laughter; Dan laughs too, laughs till his stomach starts to hurt and his cheeks start to ache.

“Cheat!” He shouts.

Phil doesn't reply, just turns around and sticks out his tongue at Dan. Dan returns the sentiment, then nearly bumps into a middle-aged lady who tuts at him. He offers a quick “sorry” and a sheepish smile, then dashes away before she has time to react. Phil's laughter rings in the distance.

Of course Phil wins, cheating bastard that he is. By the time Dan reaches the end of the street, Phil's already leaning against the lamppost there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I win.”

“No shit,” Dan gasps, still catching his breath. “You cheated!”

Phil puts on an affronted look. “I most certainly did not - ”

Dan pushes a finger into Phil's cheek, and Phil momentarily shuts up, eyes going wide.

“You did. No point denying it, Lester. Now you owe me a drink too.” He drops his hand from Phil's face, then crosses his arms and smirks.

Phil coughs, avoiding Dan’s gaze. “Um. Okay. Sure.”

Dan grins. “That's settled, then. Let’s go.”

(is that a blush he sees, or is it the light?)

(must be the light. Phil’s not blushing, how could he be?)

Phil clears his throat. “All right. What do you want?”

Dan shrugs. “Uh, bubble tea? There's a shop up there, I think.”

“Okay,” Phil says. He smiles, then extends a hand to Dan. “Come on, let’s go.”

Dan looks at the hand in front of him, palm open and fingers outstretched. He laughs, then places his hand in Phil's without hesitation, hooking their thumbs together. It's a perfect fit - it always is - and the fact makes Dan's heart ache just a little, in the best way possible.

Phil beams, and Dan thinks for the umpteenth time, _I love you_.

 

  
***

 

  
The shop is one of those pastel, cheerful ones that clash horribly with Dan’s aesthetic and go terribly well with Phil’s, for some reason. It's actually quite nice, all the pinks and blues and yellows - Dan just thinks it looks a little like a unicorn puked all over the place.

(okay, fine. he's exaggerating.)

(so what?)

After staring at the multitude of choices on the chalkboard for all of one minute, Dan comes to the decision that he'll just have whatever Phil’s ordering. Apparently Phil has the exact same thought, because they both turn to each other at the same time and say in exact unison, “What are you getting?”

The words hang in the air for a moment. Dan stares at Phil, a little wide-eyed.

He counts two seconds before he opens his mouth again.

“I don't know - probably whatever you're getting?”

Phil echoes the words along with him in perfect sync. Dan blinks, mouth falling open. Phil just stares.

“I think,” Dan says slowly - alone this time, thank god - “we might need an exorcist.”

Phil laughs at that, a sudden splutter that pulls Dan to join in immediately. “Maybe. Or maybe it's just our awesome mind-meld.”

Dan shakes his head. “Nope. Still creepy. We’re like the twins from The Shining, jesus.”

Phil hums, swinging their arms a little. “Yeah, well,” he says vaguely, “wouldn't that be incest?”

Dan chokes mid-laugh. “Wouldn't that be - _what?_ ”

Phil breaks off into a coughing fit. Dan risks a glance over, and - yes, there is definitely a blush rapidly spreading across Phil’s entire face. Yes, it's fucking adorable. Yes, Dan has absolutely no idea what to do with this knowledge, except perhaps pretend that he didn't hear, or make a joke out of it.

(because Phil looks slightly too cute for Dan’s sanity, but he also looks like he's regretting every single word that he just said.)

(and Dan knows all too well how that feels.)

He clears his throat. “I mean. Yeah. Who would ever want to date those twins in The Shining? Probably their only romantic chances are with each other, amirite?”

It doesn't even matter that whatever he just said didn't make an ounce of sense, because Dan can see the tension leaving Phil’s body, can see Phil attempting a smile.

“Yeah, you're right.” Phil’s face is still bright red, but at least he seems to have recovered. Dan hides a smile. “It's quite sad, actually - I bet they must be lonely.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Of course you would. Now hurry up and choose what you want to drink, you dingus.”

Phil smiles. “Okay.” He meets Dan's eyes, and the warmth in the swirling blue is almost overwhelming.

_Thanks._

Dan squeezes his hand. _You're welcome._

 

  
***

 

  
Phil is, apparently, just as indecisive as Dan - if not more. It's been five minutes, which is an _eternity_ , and he still hasn't made a choice.

“ _Phiiiiil_ ,” Dan whines from the counter, where he's seated himself around the two-minute mark. “Hurry _up_.”

Phil laughs. “Pot, kettle. You're the one who made me choose because you couldn't!”

Dan grins cheekily. Phil swats a hand at him, then turns back to the menu.

They're starting to attract looks from the other customers, Dan notes. Even the cashier shoots them a glance from time to time. He offers all the onlookers a slightly shaky smile.

“Okay, I've decided,” Phil declares a few seconds later. “We’ll just get the original.”

Dan sighs heavily. “Fine. Remember, you're paying for my drink.”

“And you're paying for mine,” Phil shoots back. They look at each other for an extended moment, then start to giggle.

“We’re so weird,” Dan says as they join the queue. “Actually, no - _you're_ weird. I was unfairly influenced.”

Phil splutters. “You're one to speak, you - floppy - monkey in a fedora - _wearing a fish suit_ \- ”

Dan starts laughing about midway through whatever nonsense Phil is spouting. Once he starts, he can't stop, and he doesn't realise for about a full minute that they're at the front of the queue until Phil jabs an elbow into his side.

“Ow, you fuckface - oh. Um - sorry. Milk tea, please, takeaway.”

The cashier smiles - rather unnervingly, Dan notes.

“Okay. And your boyfriend?”

Dan takes two seconds to process this, then splutters. “He's not - ”

“The same, thanks,” Phil says cheerfully, tightening his grip on Dan's hand. Dan looks at him in surprise, then falls silent.

(uh - okay. Okay.)

(wait, what?)

“Pay up, Danny.” Phil grins at him, and Dan blinks, feeling his ears burn.

“Oh - yeah, okay.” He reaches for his wallet, then hands over the money, still mildly in a state of shock. Phil takes it gleefully, then passes it to the cashier along with his own.

“We’re paying for each other,” Phil says, by way of explanation. Dan just gapes.

The cashier looks amused. “Okay. Here you go - your order should be done in five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Phil says, and then he all but drags Dan away from the queue, towards the counter. Then, rather abruptly, he sits down. Dan follows suit. Phil’s not meeting his eyes, he notes.

“Phil?”

Phil still doesn't look up. “Yeah?”

Dan swallows. Now that the initial surprise has worn off, he's starting to wonder what exactly he wants to say. Because...well, he can't say he minds. No, he definitely doesn't mind. He loves Phil, what the fuck, of _course_ he doesn't mind.

(he just sort of wishes it were real.)

“Nah, nothing,” Dan says, then smiles.

Phil darts a glance at him, then relaxes. “Okay.”

They don't say anything for a while, just hold each other's hand quietly. Dan thinks he loves these moments the most, when nothing needs to be said, when they can be submerged in their own thoughts, when just each other's company is more than enough. He watches Phil tap his fingers to the beat of a silent song, and tries in vain to figure out what song it is.

Phil finishes his tapping with a little flourish, then rests his hand along the edge of the counter. After a pause, Dan says, “Was that the piano?”

Phil laughs. “I wish. No, it's just random tapping. I never learnt how to play the piano - I wish I could, though.”

The words are out of Dan’s mouth before he even realises it. “I could teach you, you know.” He blinks. “Someday. I mean. If you want to?”

“Hell yes,” Phil says blithely, “unless you're going to charge me for it.”

“I might,” Dan says. “My time is very valuable, I'll have you know.”

“So is mine,” Phil protests. “Shouldn't you pay me, then? I'm spending time with you - surely I deserve money for that.”

Dan bursts into giggles. “Hey! Okay, first of all,  _rude_. Secondly, that - that doesn't even make sense, you spork - ”

“It does!” Phil insists. Then their order is being called out, and the conversation is immediately forgotten in favour of bubble tea. They both grab their respective cups, and Dan’s about to head back to the counter when Phil tugs him back.

“I was wondering - do you want to go to the hill to drink this? Since, y’know, it's a nice day and all.”

Dan blinks. “Sure. Let's go.”

Phil beams, then grabs Dan’s hand and pulls him towards the exit. The cashier shouts, “Have a good day!” as they leave, and they both thank her at the same time. The smile on Phil's face grows a little wider.

The shop bell tinkles in the distance, and Dan is suddenly very aware that he, too, is smiling like a fool.

 

  
***

 

  
The walk to the hill takes no time at all. The sun is starting to sink lower in the sky, and the shadows curling around their feet are growing longer with every step they take. There's no wind, but there’s a sort of quiet serenity in the air that Dan loves, a sort of serenity that he's come to associate with Phil by his side.

Their shoulders brush, and Dan leans into the warmth.

By the time they sit down on the grass, the sky is already streaked with brilliant orange. Dan sucks in a breath at the sight - it's not the first time he's visiting the hill, nor is it the first time he's seen a sunset, but - it's stunning. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to such beauty, such magnificence, even if he sees it every day. Every single time feels wholly new.

Phil says softly, “Pretty, isn't it?”

Dan smiles. “Yeah. More than pretty.”

“Sunsets always are,” says Phil, and something about his tone makes Dan reach over and lace their fingers together. Phil squeezes back, and Dan shuffles closer.

“Have you finished?”

“Finished what?”

“Your bubble tea.”

Phil holds up his half-full cup in lieu of answering, letting the rays of sunlight shine through the plastic. Dan looks at his profile for a moment too long, then forces his gaze back to the sky.

(he doesn't think he'll ever get used to Phil's beauty, either.)

(it's just - the shadows, and his smile, and the light - )

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you really teach me to play the piano one day?”

Dan can't suppress a smile. “Duh. But only if you teach me how to make good coffee.”

“Deal,” Phil says, then looks at Dan and grins. His eyes sparkle in the low evening light, casting flickers of blue and gold, and Dan tries to remember how to breathe. He fails miserably in his attempt when Phil reaches over and grazes his fingertips over the curve of his cheek.

“You have freckles,” Phil says. He sounds awed. “How did I never notice before?”

Dan flushes even more; his skin burns under Phil's touch. “I - uh. I don't know?”

“Hmm,” Phil says thoughtfully. His fingers trail down to Dan’s jawline; Dan almost chokes. “Well, they're cute.”

Dan just about spontaneously combusts right there and then. “Sorry?”

“I said,” Phil repeats, “they're _cute_.” He drops his hand from Dan’s face, then looks up at Dan expectantly.

Dan blinks, his mind still reeling. “Huh?”

Phil sighs, just a little. Dan blinks again. He's finding it quite hard to process anything right now, especially when Phil’s touch still lingers on his cheek.

“Nothing. Hey, look, the sunset’s about to end.”

“Oh. Uh - yeah.” Dan risks a glance at Phil and immediately goes bright red again - Phil’s fixing him with such an intense look that it's hard not to look away.

“What's the matter?” Dan asks, in an attempt to be casual. (It doesn't work.)

Now Phil drops his gaze, turning his face towards the scene unfolding in front of them. Confused, Dan does the same, and he feels Phil’s hand tighten around his.

It's a few moments before Phil speaks again, soft and fond. “You can be really dense, you know.”

Dan splutters. He's been blushing and tripping over his bloody feet around Phil since - since like _forever_ , and Phil has the audacity to call him _dense_ when he himself can't see the blatantly obvious crush Dan has on him? How dense does Phil have to be for Tyler and Louise to see the truth before he himself notices?

(he very conveniently ignores the fact that he took at least two weeks to realise what _those_ feelings were.)

Phil chuckles. “You look like a goldfish.”

Dan belatedly realises that he's been opening and closing his mouth while searching for something to say. In the end he settles for, “You're one to speak,” though the words come out a lot huffier (and also a lot fonder) than he wanted them to be.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Dan says, brimming with rightful indignance. “You can be downright blind at times, I swear - ”

He doesn't remember when Phil shifted this close, but suddenly all he can see is swirling blue and flecks of emerald and warm gold, half-lidded and bordered with long lashes. It takes him half a moment to realise that Phil's bracketing him with his arms, and the words die in his throat.

The bubble tea, suddenly forgotten, lands on the grass with a soft thud.

“How am I blind, exactly?”

The words are soft, whispered to the wind, and Dan makes a strangled noise from the back of his throat. There's something in Phil's gaze that makes him unable to look away, unable to breathe, unable to form coherent words. The proximity isn't helping, either, since the warm pressure of Phil's body is just making Dan’s head spin even more.

His fingers make an aborted attempt for purchase in the grass, then lose all grip completely as Phil leans impossibly closer. In the next second, Dan finds himself flat on his back, staring up at Phil, and immediately the cacophony of panicked voices in his mind burst to full volume:

_what's happening what's hAPPENING oh my god oh my god calm down it's fine just breathe he's really pretty what the fuck -_

Phil blinks once, twice, then presses his lips to Dan's.

Dan’s mind short-circuits. His entire body freezes. Phil’s lips are soft, and his body is warm, and his eyes are bright blue and unblinking.

For one long moment, no one moves.

Dan's heart does a slow, almost painful twirl in his chest, and then -

Phil shoots up, bright red in the face, and practically leaps away from Dan. There's a sudden rush of cold air, and Dan barely has any time to note how painful the separation feels before the reality of what just happened crashes into him.

 _Oh. My. God,_ he thinks, then promptly rolls over and smushes his face into the grass.

(his lips are still tingling. oh god.)

“Dan?”

Phil sounds borderline hysterical. Dan thinks, slightly bitterly, that he can relate.

As it is, he just lets out a drawn-out groan in response. There's not enough brain capacity left to formulate a proper response - Phil's ruined all chance of coherent thought, apparently.

( _damn_ Phil, seriously.)

(damn him and his bright eyes and his warm hands and soft lips - )

“Dan.”

Dan doesn't look up. He can't. There's a crazy spark of hope in his chest that he doesn't dare to feed right now, not when Phil could very easily take everything back with a single sentence. Just a simple “Oh, I'm sorry, that was an accident” would be enough to shatter Dan's heart completely again.

“Um, Dan?” Phil sounds tentative, almost scared. “Dan, I'm sorry.”

Dan sucks in a breath through his teeth, feels his heart sink lower. _Get on with it_ , he thinks, then presses his face further into the grass.

“I shouldn't have done that, should I?” Phil says softly. “It was - it was wrong of me? I'm sorry if it was. I just - you know.”

Phil exhales. Dan goes still; his heart lifts its head again, hopefully.

“It's just - ” Phil tries again, then he makes this helpless noise, and suddenly all Dan wants to do is to wrap Phil in a hug. But he doesn't move, because it sounds like Phil has a long speech to say, and Dan is here for it.

(no, he doesn't dare to hope. yes, he's hoping anyway.)

“It's just - you looked nice. Is all.” There's a pause, during which Dan shuts his eyes so tight he can see stars, and then it's like the floodgates have been opened, and Phil bursts.

“You know what, here goes. I don't care anymore. You always look nice. I don't know how, or why, but you always do. You could be dripping wet and wearing rags and I'd still think you look beautiful.”

Dan can't breathe. His heart does a somersault.

“And it's not just how you look, but also how you laugh at the weirdest jokes, and how you get excited over the silliest things, and how you always seem to know when to comfort me. And how you find meaning in everything, and how you never fail to make me smile - fuck, I could go on forever.”

Phil gives another one of those helpless laughs, and Dan is - Dan is gone. His heart has been fucking K.O.ed.

“I like you, alright? I like you too much for my own good, and for a while I thought you might feel the same way, but that's never going to happen, is it, and - fuck, now I've ruined everything, haven't I? The thing is, I thought maybe the crush could go away, but it didn't, and now it's too late - ”

Dan is in a trance. He doesn't know when or how it happened, but suddenly he's on his knees in front of Phil, and Phil’s still rambling with his head turned to the side. Dan can spot the exact moment Phil spots him - his eyes go wide, and his mouth closes abruptly.

Dan looks at him, and he thinks, _I love you so much I think I might die._

Phil blinks up at him. Dan watches him go from surprise, to warmth, to despair, then - finally, just like Dan had - to hope.

“Dan?” The word is barely a whisper, but Dan can hear it as clear as day.

“Can I kiss you,” he blurts. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

Phil swallows. Dan waits.

“Yes.”

So Dan does.

And - it's not perfect, because their noses bump together and Dan nearly loses his balance - but Phil’s lips are soft, and warm, and Dan’s eyes flutter shut of their own accord. Phil kisses like he's almost afraid to hurt Dan - gentle and sweet and soft, with one hand cupping the side of Dan’s face, and the other on his shoulder. Dan thinks, rather dizzily, that if it weren't for Phil steadying him he'd probably have melted into a puddle by now.

Phil does something with his mouth, then, which is - _oh_ \- rather nice, and Dan lets out an embarrassingly swoony noise without meaning to. He tugs Phil closer, wanting more, _needing_ more, but then Phil pulls away a little, chuckling softly against his lips. Dan can feel the wideness of his smile, can feel every vibration of sound as he laughs.

Slowly, dazedly, he opens his eyes.

“Hi,” says Phil. There's a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips; Dan thinks, irrationally, that he wants to kiss it.

“Hi to you too,” Dan replies, grinning back. Phil leans forward a little and rests his forehead on Dan’s, and Dan closes his eyes and allows his smile to widen.

For a few moments they stay like that, just holding onto each other, breathing in sync. The stars twinkle down at them, and the moon bestows them with her brightest smile.

Then a snort breaks the silence, and Dan opens his eyes again. Phil's giggling, with his cheeks flushed pink and his tongue poking out between his teeth. He's close enough for Dan to feel the shuddering of his shoulders, and it's not long before Dan breaks off into laughter too.

Nothing's even particularly funny, he thinks. It's just - he's so ridiculously happy. He's so bloody ecstatic he thinks he could fly, just grab hold of Phil by the hand and soar up up up into the sky. Every cell in his body seems to be singing for joy, and for a brief moment he wonders if Phil feels the same way. Then he sees the unmistakable joy mirrored in Phil's eyes, and just like that he knows - Phil does. Phil definitely does.

There's absolutely no wetness in Dan’s eyes. Dan's not struggling to hold back his tears, of course he isn't. He _isn't_.

(god, who is he kidding.)

Their laughter fades off after a while, replaced with soft smiles. Dan can't resist - he leans forward and presses another chaste kiss to Phil's lips, eliciting a surprised noise from Phil. When Dan pulls away, Phil's blinking slowly at him, a dizzy smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and tucks a curl behind Dan’s ear, and Dan shivers.

Somehow or other, they're holding hands again. Dan doesn't mind one bit.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Make a wish.”

Surprised, Dan looks up. Sure enough, there's a shooting star whizzing across the sky, leaving behind a trail of bright-white. It looks just like the one they had seen, the first time Dan visited this hill. Dan still remembers the wish he made.

“I don't need to.” He says.

Phil hums. “Why not?”

Dan holds up their joined hands, then looks at Phil and smiles.

“I already have everything I wished for.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: first of all sorry for the long wait!! second sorry for this self-indulgent chapter i couldn't control myself

There's a short pause as Phil digests the statement, then he lets out a long groan and buries his face in Dan's shoulder.

“I hate you,” Phil says, voice muffled by the fabric of Dan’s hoodie.

Dan can't suppress his laugh. “Why? I thought you liked me!” The words still taste like cotton candy bliss on his tongue - Phil likes him. Phil _likes_ him. He still can't quite believe it.

“I do,” Phil mumbles. “Too much. Which is why I hate you.”

“Well, sorry then, mate. I hate you a fair bit too.”

Phil reaches up and whacks Dan on the arm, and Dan winces. “Ow.”

“You're an idiot,” Phil tells him fondly.

“I know,” Dan says. Then he grins. “But I'm _your_ idiot.”

Phil actually rolls away from Dan this time. He lies face-up on the grass, covering his face with his hands and letting out a steady whine. Dan laughs so much his stomach hurts.

“I'm sorry,” he chokes. “But honestly - you can't blame me! You did the exact same thing to me that day!”

“When?”

Dan raises an eyebrow incredulously, though he knows Phil can't see it. “That day I brought you coffee? And you were like, any dream with you is a great one, babe! Christ, I was so embarrassed - ”

“Excuse me,” Phil interrupts hotly from his place on the grass, “I did not call you babe. I would never call you babe. That's just plain weird.”

Dan huffs. “Whatever. Point is, you've done it too.” Then, because Phil looks really pitiful curled up in a ball like that and Dan genuinely feels a little guilty, he adds, “I'm sorry, though. Was that overkill?”

“Definitely overkill,” Phil grumbles. There's a pause, then, very softly: “I can't say I mind, though.”

Dan chokes mid-laugh. Phil doesn't move.

After a second, Dan clears his throat. “I - well. I can't say I mind, either. I mean. You know. It's nice.”

Phil peeks through the gaps between his fingers. “Yeah?”

Dan swallows. “Yeah.”

“Alright then.” Phil sits up in one smooth motion, grinning at Dan. “Okay, here goes. Aren't the stars beautiful tonight?”

Dan closes his eyes, unable to hold back a splutter of laughter. He's already well aware of how Phil's going to continue, but he wouldn't stop Phil for the world.

“Yeah, they are.”

Phil's starting to giggle too. “You know what else is beautiful?”

An idea hits Dan at the last second, and he turns to face Phil, grinning obnoxiously.

“You?”

“You!” Phil declares triumphantly, then his face falls. As the realisation hits, Dan has the pleasure of watching his expression go from delighted to the frustration of being one-upped, _again_.

“Dan!” He whines, and Dan would be lying if he said that Phil's pout wasn't the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. He's laughing too hard to acknowledge it, though. When Phil reaches over and shoves him on the arm, Dan just gives up and falls over onto the grass, still laughing helplessly.

“How could you do that? I had it all _planned_ \- ”

“I'm sorry,” says Dan. He's not sorry. “I'm not sorry, I'm not one bit sorry, oh my god your face - ”

“You absolute shitface,” states Phil without the slightest hint of anger. He makes a truly admirable attempt to frown down at Dan, even as he keeps blinking furiously.

“You're a shitface too,” Dan says, voice shaking. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, then as if on cue, they both burst into giggles. Dan takes the opportunity to tug Phil down onto the grass next to him, and he laughs even more at the sound of surprise the action elicits from Phil. Without thinking, he presses a finger into the dip of Phil’s cheek, and Phil breaks out into a smile that could rival the sun.

And Dan is - Dan is utterly mesmerised. He's been mesmerised for so achingly long, and now he doesn't think he'll ever be able to tear his gaze away again.

“Why are you staring?”

Dan hums, too distracted by the crinkles at Phil’s eyes to properly formulate an answer. “Just ‘cause.”

He watches as Phil’s smile grows from bright and blinding to something more muted, something soft and fond and full of warmth.

“Okay.”

There's a quiet sort of liquid happiness running through Dan’s veins, a sort of steady contentment that warms him up from the inside out. He smiles back at Phil, then tilts his head back and gazes up at the night sky. Next to him, Phil does the same, and Dan hears a soft sigh of awe.

Across the grass, underneath the starlight, their hands find each other.

Dan holds on tight.

 

  
***

 

  
The next morning, Dan wakes up with his mouth still curled up in a smile. For a moment, he wonders what exactly he's so happy about - then the memories of last night flood his mind, and the smile on his face grows impossibly wider.

Phil likes him back. They kissed. They watched the stars together on the hill, and then Phil had walked him back to his dorm, and - holy shit. The wave of dizzy happiness hits Dan right in the chest, and he lets his head fall back onto the pillow, gaze landing on the ceiling.

This bloody ceiling. How many times, Dan wonders, has he laid right on this exact spot and attempted to count the cracks, all while thinking about Phil and the swirling blue of his eyes? How many times has he struggled to control his feelings towards Phil, with only the cracks of the ceiling for company?

He doesn't have to anymore, he realises. There's no need to.

The knowledge makes him want to bury his face into his pillow and squeal, so he does. There's no one around to judge him for it, anyway, so Dan lets his voice go higher and higher until he's pretty sure he sounds like a police siren. Hey, it's good stress relief.

Then his phone buzzes mid-scream, and Dan’s voice dies in his throat. He lifts his head, then makes a mad scramble for the phone on the bedside table. There's only one person who would call him this early, and he knows who it is.

Suddenly breathless, he picks up. “Phil?”

“Good morning,” says Phil, voice still rough with sleep. Dan can imagine exactly how he looks like right now, and the image is doing weird things to his stomach. He shakes it away.

“Good morning,” he parrots back. “How have you been?”

“I - uh,” says Phil, then pauses. “I've missed you,” he blurts.

Dan blinks. He takes a deep breath, then flops onto his back and lets out a silent scream.

(goddamnit, Phil.)

“Me too,” he replies after a few seconds, hoping he doesn't sound too choked up. Or lovesick. Or - or anything, really. Casual is key.

(oh, who is he kidding.)

Phil says, “Oh.” He sounds wondrous, almost disbelieving. “So it wasn't a dream.”

“What wasn't a dream?”

“Nothing,” says Phil, then laughs delightedly. Dan, a little bemused, listens to him giggle for a while and feels the corner of his mouth pull up. He leans his head back onto the headboard, watching the sunlight cast a golden glow around his room.

The laughter fades, but Phil's smile is tangible in the sounds of his breathing.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm really happy,” Phil states simply, and the words send a jolt straight to Dan's heart. “Are you?”

Are you happy?

For a moment, Dan goes stock-still. He thinks of Phil's hand in his, of surprise coffee at 7am, of joking questions and sincere advice. Of sunlit walls, of inside-out warmth, of rumpled bed sheets and confessions swallowed down.

He smiles, closes his eyes.

“Yeah. With you, I always am.”

 

  
***

 

  
Spring’s starting to fade into summer now, with the days getting longer, brighter, and definitely hotter. With summer comes the prospect of the holidays, dangling tantalisingly behind the huge roadblock that is the end-of-year exams. Dan isn't even paying attention to his professor when the examination dates are announced - he's too busy picturing Phil’s smile, and Phil’s eyes, and every bit of Phil in general.

He doesn't even realise he's grinning until his deskmate shoots him a weird look. A quick glance around tells Dan that he's the only one in the entire lecture theatre smiling, so he tries to push his smile down.

Then he thinks of the way Phil held his hand underneath the stars, and all of a sudden he's beaming again.

(what can he say?)

(he's happy.)

But his friends certainly don't seem to be. Sitting at the back row with his phone tucked under the table, Dan watches with a growing sense of impending doom and increasing amusement as their group chat explodes with panic, despair, and various declarations of death.

_Louise: GUYS_

_Ty: holy shit holy macaroons_

_Phil: The biscuit or the other one_

_Ty: you're telling me you're an english major and you don't know?_

_Louise: GUYS THE EXAMS_

_Phil: AHHHHHHHH I KNOW_

_Ty: not ready_

_Phil: Not prepared_

_Louise: WHICH IS WHY WE SHOULD ST ART_

_Ty: ready for death_

_Ty: kill me, impale me on the sword that is exams_

_Louise: Tyler stop_

_Phil: Wow poetic ty u should be the english major_

_Ty: ikr thanks_

_Dan: [Ty: kill me, impale me on the sword that is exams] uhhHH i feel like this should be my line_

_Louise: Both of you. Stop_

_Dan: no but lou i have to find some way to express my emotions about the train wreck that is my life and i do so through joking about euthanasia and suffering and the sweet release of death_

_Louise: I give up_

_Ty: dan I like the way you think_

_Dan: so do i_

_Phil: I like how we're all texting during class and no one cares_

_Louise: I WONDER WHY_

_Dan: who cares about class_

_Phil: We're more important?_

_Dan: i_

_Dan: i was going to say you're more fun but same thing_

_Ty: awww dan_

_Phil: Awww dan_

_Louise: AWWWW Dan you love us_

(he really does.)

_Dan: pffft no i don't_

_Phil: Shut up dan_

_Ty: yeah dan shut up_

_Dan: :( this is bullying_

_Louise: SO study session?? At Tyler's? We can meet at the coffee shop first?_

_Ty: …………….fine_

_Phil: Sure_

And maybe it's ridiculous, but Dan can feel his heart lift immediately at the prospect of seeing Phil again. It's been barely twenty four hours since they separated, and yet.

And yet.

_Dan: yup ok_

_Dan: :)_

  
***

 

  
Dan stays half-stuck in that absurd cloud of sugary happiness for the rest of the day. Even the steadily growing pile of assignments on his table doesn't do much to dampen his mood, though he does turn to give it a perfunctory frown before flopping onto his bed and smiling up at the ceiling.

It's fine, he'll do it tomorrow. That's what study sessions are for, anyway, aren't they?

Not that Dan has even the smallest hope of concentrating with Phil in the same room. It's always been part of the reason why the study sessions were kind of a fail for Dan - Phil was too close, Phil was too distracting, Phil was there. Why would he choose to read lines and lines of constitutional rights when he could stare at Phil instead?

And now, he supposes, it's going to be even worse. He doesn't stand a chance.

(he never did.)

Dan proves himself right the very next day. The moment he steps into the coffee shop and sees Phil, hurrying around the kitchen, it's as if someone has clenched a fist around his heart. The wave of affection is so sudden and so huge that it nearly knocks Dan off his feet.

He can't breathe. It's all he can do to stay there, standing, staring.

Behind the counter, Phil finally looks up. Dan never thought he would say something so cheesy, but - the moment their eyes meet, it's as if the entire world has been put on hold, just for them. Everything else dissolves into nothingness; right now all Dan can see is Phil, standing there amidst the glow of the coffee shop and looking as beautiful as he's always been.

He watches - marvels, really - as Phil mouths his name with an air of reverence, then grins, blinding and absurdly happy. His hand lifts in a small wave, and it’s ridiculously cute.

Dan grins back. Of course he does, it's Phil.

Slowly, taking his time, he makes his way from the door to the counter, hands shoved deep in his pockets to steady himself. Phil’s smile widens with every step Dan takes, and by the time they're face-to-face, Dan’s cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so much.

“Hi,” says Phil softly. There's a smear of coffee powder on his cheek.

“Hi,” Dan answers, equally softly. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. 

It suddenly strikes him that he has no idea what to do - what do you say in a situation like this? What do you say to a newly-requited crush across the counter of a coffee shop? How do you even act?

Dan is completely clueless, and he'll admit it. He's kind of (read: very) inexperienced in this field, so -

“How are you today?” He blurts, then immediately wishes he could swallow the words back down.

A split second later, Dan changes his mind. That was possibly maybe the best thing he could have said, because now Phil’s giggling and his tongue is poking through his teeth and he's looking at Dan as if he's the sun.

“I'm good, thanks,” Phil says, leaning forward on his elbows. “How about you?”

Dan mirrors the action. “I'm good too, thanks,” he parrots. Then, out of a mixture of nerves and slight delirium, he starts laughing.

“This is so weird. I'm sorry.” The apology falls from his mouth by pure instinct.

“Don't be sorry,” Phil says. “And no, it's not that weird, I think it's sweet.”

Dan laughs again, this time a little helplessly. “Phil. I'm hopeless at this sort of - ”

“So am I,” Phil cuts in. “We're both hopeless, so it's fine.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “In case you couldn't tell, I've been bloody nervous the moment I saw you.”

Dan blinks. “Why would you be? It's just me.”

“Exactly,” says Phil, with a hint of a wry smile. He lowers his gaze to the countertop, then takes another deep breath. “It's just you, but as a matter of fact I happen to like just you quite a fair bit. Too much, in fact.”

Dan blinks again. “Oh,” he says, a little dumbly.

Oh.

He looks at the way Phil’s twisting the hem of his apron, at the slight blush that paints his cheeks, and the way he's chewing on his lip - and all of a sudden, Dan gets it. He's not the only one feeling nervous. He's not the only one exploring uncharted territory and feeling fumbly and embarrassed with everything he does. He's not alone in this - this bubbly anticipation, the crippling awkwardness, the overwhelming emotions.

Because Phil's feeling it, too.

And somehow it's that final thought that pushes all the air out of his lungs in one big exhale, that draws out all the tension in his shoulders. Dan's still nervous, and he's still not entirely sure of how to act, but somehow it doesn't seem as scary now.

“Phil?”

Phil waves a hand, still not meeting Dan's eyes. “There goes my cool guy image,” he says, in a voice far too casual to be actually casual.

Dan hides a smile.

“You don't have a cool guy image, Phil. You never did, let's be real. Don't lie to yourself.”

Phil looks up now, eyes twinkling. He still looks a little apprehensive, but then, so does Dan.

He smiles. “Are you saying I'm not cool?”

“You're not cool.” Dan says, then grins.

“Ouch.”

“But I like you anyway,” Dan continues nonchalantly, then dips his head to examine his nails below the counter.

From above, he hears a choked sound, and he smiles. When he raises his head again, Phil's entire face has gone pink, and even the tips of his ears are flushed.

“Was that - didn't I say that before?”

Dan laughs. “Yeah, you did. But I'm stealing that line from you, you can't have it back.”

Phil laughs too. Dan feels something warm curl up in his chest.

“How dare you.”

Dan does a poor imitation of a hair flip. “Well,” he says in his best (worst) snarky voice, “I'm a rebel and copyright doesn't exist and - ”

“DAN!” A high-pitched voice screams in his ear, and Dan nearly falls out of his chair. The only reason he's not sliding off is the pair of arms that's somehow magically appeared around his upper back, arms that are now threatening to cut off Dan’s air supply.

“ _Whatthefuck_ \- ”

The giggle that follows, mixed in with the hysterical laughter of Phil, is definitely Tyler's. Out of the corner of his eye, Dan catches a flash of white-blond hair, and he can't help but smile even as he gasps for air.

“Tyler - fuck - let go of me!”

Blessedly, Tyler does just that. Then, still laughing, he bounds over to the front of the counter and does the exact same thing to Phil, practically leaping over the countertop. Dan watches the proceedings with a mixture of barely-concealed amusement and amazement. He has no idea how Tyler manages to sound like he's speaking in caps all the time - is it a skill you can learn? Is it something that comes naturally? Whatever it is, Tyler definitely has it. No one can deny that.

After a whole lot of commotion, Tyler sits down next to Dan, still beaming.

“I've missed y'all,” he announces.

“Well,” Dan says, “I haven't.” Phil sputters, then turns it into a cough.

Tyler places a hand to his heart and frowns. “That hurt, Dan. Who would have known you cared so little about me? _Me_ , the love of your life! I'm wounded.”

Dan sighs in the exact same over-dramatic manner. “I know, I know. But it's true. I've secretly loathed you from the very first day we met.”

“He doesn't tell you, Ty, but he dreams about torturing you every single day,” Phil adds. “Things like shaving off all your hair or permanently tattooing Edward Cullen’s face on your cheek. Psychotic, I know.”

Tyler looks horrified. “Dan! How _could_ you?”

Dan grins. “At least I'm not dreaming about stabbing you. Or, you know, killing.”

“That would be better,” Tyler declares, then lifts a hand to pat gently at his hair. “I'd rather die than have none of this majestic wonder.”

Phil splutters again. Dan reaches over the counter and pats him on the back.

Then the bell tinkles, and all three of them look over. Louise trudges into the coffee shop, a huge bag swinging from her shoulders. Without saying anything, she collapses into the seat next to Dan, then face-plants into the wooden surface of the countertop.

“I'm so tired.”

“Aww, Lou,” Dan coos, equal parts mocking and genuinely concerned. He puts his chin on the counter, making himself level with her head. “What happened?”

“Life sucks,” comes her muffled reply. “I need coffee.”

Phil, leaning on his elbow, says, “I can help with that. Not the life sucks part, but the coffee part. What do you want?”

“Caffeine.”

Tyler laughs. “Same. And death, amirite?”

Louise gives him a shove, then sighs and sits up without any warning. Dan nearly gets a faceful of curls, ducking away just in time.

“Louise!”

“What?” She says blithely. When Dan glares, she holds up a finger. “Okay, first of all, sniffing my hair is an honour - ”

Tyler, being the little shit he is, takes the opportunity to jump in with a stage-whisper loud enough for all of them to hear. “No it's not. It smells like shit.”

Slowly, Louise turns her gaze from Dan to Tyler. Dan watches with morbid amusement as her eyes shrink into slits, and her mouth pulls tight with the sort of smile a cat has before it pounces.

“What did you just say?”

Having realised his mistake, Tyler starts to raise his arms in surrender. Dan, very carefully, eases himself out of the danger zone, one inch at a time.

“Lou. I'm kidding.” When the daggers keep coming, Tyler tries again. “Look, I'm sorry. It was a joke. I'm kidding. I’M KIDDING - _no no no don't kill me please_ \- ”

There's a thud. No, it's not the sound of Tyler’s lifeless body falling to the floor - it's the sound of a plastic cup of coffee landing on wood. Wordlessly, Phil slides the cup over to Louise, then rests his head on his hands and smiles.

Louise freezes. Tyler takes the chance to duck out of harm’s way.

“Phil.” She says blankly.

Phil looks at her. “Go on. Drink it.”

Slowly, Louise takes a sip. The effect is almost instantaneous - the death rays disappear from her eyes, and she exhales. Then, wonder of wonders, she starts to smile, and Dan heaves an inner sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Phil,” she says. “I knew I could count on you.” She turns to glare at Tyler, who lets out a squeak. “Unlike _some_ people.”

Phil laughs. “You're welcome.”

“Hey,” Dan says. “What about me?”

“You?” Phil crosses his arms, then looks Dan up and down with a smirk. Dan ignores how his face flames. “Well, what do you want?”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” Dan answers. He smiles winningly, dimpling his cheeks, then shamelessly looks up at Phil through his lashes. “Please?”

It works. Phil’s eyes widen a little, and his face goes gratifyingly pink. He opens his mouth, lets it fall shut, then without a word, he turns around and starts making the drink at top speed. Dan has to swallow a giggle.

“Blatant prejudice,” mutters Tyler. “ _Blatant_.” Dan sticks out his tongue at him.

“Now, now, Tyler,” says Louise sedately. “You're not as cute.”

“Excuse you - ”

“It's true,” Dan agrees. “I'm cuter.”

“Nope, all untrue.” Phil calls over his back. He whirls back around, setting a plastic cup in front of Dan, then leans forward on his elbows and smiles. “I'm the cutest here. No questions asked.”

“Can't argue with that,” Dan says under his breath. Phil flicks him a look that's part amusement and part embarrassment, and Dan hides a smile.

“What did you say?” Tyler asks distractedly. When Dan glances over, Louise’s staring at her cup rather intently, as if she's examining where all the liquid went.

“Nothing,” Dan says. “Phil - thanks for the coffee, by the way. It's great.”

Phil’s eyes twinkle. Before he can say anything, Tyler jumps in, a pleading look on his face.

“ _Please_ can I have a coffee now?”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “What if I say no?”

“You might as well kill him,” Louise says drily.

Tyler ignores her, choosing to intensify his puppy-dog eyes instead. “Please, Phil? Phil, my buddy, my man? The love of my life?”

“Hey,” Dan interrupts, “I thought I was the love of your life.”

“Well, it's all Phil now.”

Louise sighs sagely. “No, it's not. The love of Tyler's life is Tyler.”

Phil giggles. Tyler glares for all of two seconds before he breaks out into a smile as well.

“Whatever. Please, Phil?”

“Fine,” Phil says. “Fine. What do you want?”

Tyler beams. “An iced mocha. Thanks, Phil, you're the best.” He stands up and reaches his arms over the counter, but Phil dodges the hug, laughing.

“Nope. Not if you want the drink.”

Tyler sits back down on his seat and pouts. Dan laughs, then chokes on a bit of ice.

Ten minutes later, the four of them step out into the sunshine, each holding a plastic cup - even Louise, who demanded for a refill even after Phil told her the number of espresso shots in her first cup (four). The sun, hanging high in the sky, sends merciless waves of heat everywhere, and Dan has never been more grateful for the cup of iced coffee in his hand.

“It's so hot,” Louise moans. “I'm going to _melt_ and _die_.”

“Of course you're feeling hot,” says Tyler. He winks. “I'm here.”

Louise groans. “Stop. I would kill you for that, but it's too hot right now.”

Phil laughs once. Tyler sticks out his tongue, but doesn't say anything.

The conversation fades off. On instinct, Dan starts to slow his footsteps, casually lagging behind. He can't help but smile when he sees Phil doing the same thing. A few moments later, they meet in the middle, safely cocooned in their own small bubble of privacy.

“So,” Phil says quietly.

Dan thinks he might have an idea of what Phil is going to say. “Yeah?”

“About - about this.” Phil waves a clumsy hand, gesticulating at the space between him and Dan. “Are we - um. Are we going to tell them about it?”

Dan takes a sip of his drink and waits a moment before responding. “I honestly don't see why not, but…”

“But?”

He knows it's going to sound ridiculous. But it's Phil, so he says it anyway. “What exactly are we?”

_Boyfriends? Romantic best friends? Mutual crushes? Nothing at all?_

He tries to pretend that the question hasn't been buzzing around his head since last night. One look at Phil’s face, however, tells him that he's failed - and yet Phil seems quite endeared.

“Dan.” Phil’s grinning, and his voice is gentle. “What do you want us to be?”

The answer that pops into Dan's mind is so incredibly sappy, he can't believe himself. Flushing, he turns his head away and mumbles something under his breath. His face is growing redder by the second, he can feel it.

Phil leans closer, still grinning. “Say that again? I didn't catch it.”

Dan's face is on fire. “Together forever.” The moment the words fall out of his mouth, he shudders. “Good grief. Are you happy now, Lester?”

If Dan thought Phil's smile was bright before, it's absolutely blinding now.

“I've never been happier,” Phil says. Dan’s heart does a little painful stutter in his chest - Phil sounds so earnest, and it's unreal. Everything about this is unreal, Dan thinks. Even Phil.

Unbidden, he glances over at the boy in question, and their eyes meet. They share a smile, then Dan reaches over and casually tangles their hands together. Phil squeezes tight, and Dan can't hold back his grin.

It's enough. This is enough. They don't have to tell anyone, they don't have to let anyone know - Dan is content, like this. So unbelievably content.

But.

It would be nice, too. Letting people know. Much as he's loathe to admit it, there's a small part of Dan that desperately wants to announce their - their _relationship_ to the whole wide world. He wants people to be happy for him, goddamnit. He wants people to look at him and Phil and go, of _course_ they're together, those two boys fit like pieces in a puzzle, they belong to each other. He wants people to see and understand and _know_.

Phil squeezes his hand again, and Dan blinks.

“Penny, thoughts?”

Dan exhales. “Maybe…”

Phil looks at him and smiles. “Yeah?”

“Maybe we could tell just Ty and Louise?”

When Phil doesn't reply immediately, Dan blathers on, face reddening. “I mean - let's not, if you don't want to. I was just thinking - they'd find out sooner or later, so, you know - but we don't have to. In fact, let's not tell them, we can keep it a secret - ”

“Dan,” Phil says. He's grinning. Dan shuts up immediately, the torrent of words coming to an abrupt stop.

“I don't mind telling them,” Phil says softly. “I would like that a lot, actually. Way more than you'd ever think. But,” he takes a breath, “maybe not so soon? After the exams, maybe? Would that be alright?”

Dan says, “Yes,” then again, “ _Yes_.” He lets out a giddy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, let's. Let's do that.”

Phil beams. Dan takes one look at him, just one look, and nearly trips over his own feet. There's a laugh, then Phil’s arm shoots out and grabs hold of Dan, steadying him.

Phil giggles. His tongue pokes out between his teeth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dan says, grinning. He exhales, then tips his head back to smile at the sky.

“Yeah, I'm okay.”

 

  
***

 

  
“Do we _have_ to study?”

“Yes,” Louise says, not looking up from her textbook. She tucks her hair behind her ear, then says, “Get up, Tyler.”

Tyler, sprawled across three cushions on the floor, lets out a long whine. Dan feels compelled to join in, but one look at Louise’s face tells him he'd better not risk it.

“Can't I just stay down here?”

Louise looks at him. “Well, you can, but - ”

Phil cuts in. “Then you'll do horrible on your exams and ruin your grade average and you'll disappoint - ”

“ - yourself and the people around you because you could have done so much better,” Dan finishes. “There. Were we right?”

Tyler bursts out into laughter and starts applauding. Dan does a mock bow, his hand raised up high in the air like he's facing an audience. Phil says, in his most awful imitation of a Hollywood actor, “Thank you, thank you. We couldn't have done any of this without you. Especially you, Lou.” He blows an air kiss to her for dramatic effect.

Louise looks at the three of them, then sighs. Smiling, she reaches up and captures the air kiss with her hand, then slots it into her pocket.

“Fine. I'm not even sure what I'm saying fine to, but _fine_.”

“Mario Kart?” Dan suggests hopefully. His book lies open on the floor, neglected.

“No,” Tyler says. “You would win everything. Even with handicaps. Let's do something else.”

Phil raises his eyebrow. “Like?”

“A movie?” Louise says, stacking her notes neatly to one side.

Tyler sits up. “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?”

Dan sits up too. “Tyler. Owner of my heart. Not only do I support your choice, I embrace it. I breathe it. It is my life and my soul - ”

Louise snorts. “Now I understand why Phil calls you a drama queen. Yes to Harry Potter, by the way.”

“To be fair,” Phil says, “we are all quite dramatic. I think it may be the only reason we're even friends at all.”

Tyler gasps, covering his mouth with his hands. Louise gasps too, then pretends she didn't and rolls her eyes instead. Dan smothers a giggle.

Ten minutes later, they're all huddled together in front of Tyler's television, a bowl of microwave popcorn between them as Hedwig’s theme plays. Dan takes a moment to contemplate how comfortable, how oddly reminiscent, how _right_ this feels, then smiles to himself and fixes his eyes on the screen.

“I can't wait,” says Tyler, bouncing a little on the sofa. “It's been ages since I last saw Daniel Radcliffe’s little baby face. Look at him, I just want to pinch his cheeks.”

Louise wrinkles her nose. “Wasn't he, like, eighteen when he played this? He’s barely younger than our Dan, for goodness’ sake.”

“Both Dans do look like babies,” says Phil, without looking up.

“Excuse me,” Dan huffs, “I am _right here_ and I am _offended_ \- ”

“Still cute, though,” Phil says offhandedly, gaze still fixed on the screen.

Dan splutters midway through his sentence and goes bright red. When he lifts his head weakly, Tyler's got a shit-eating grin on his face, and Louise’s got an odd glint in her eye.

He gulps.

“Phil, what did you say? I couldn't hear,” Tyler says cheerfully.

“Hmm?” comes Phil’s response. “Oh, I said that Daniel was still cute.”

Tyler grins wider. “Daniel Radcliffe? Him and him only?”

Phil smiles too, all wide-eyed innocence. “He’s pretty fit, isn't he?”

“Shut up,” Dan interrupts, having finally found his voice. He's pretty sure he's blushing fit to burst as he says, “I - I want to watch the movie. Let's stop talking.”

Tyler giggles. “Okay then, your majesty.” He nudges Dan in the side, wiggling his eyebrows. “What's gotten you so worked up, huh?”

Before Dan can stutter out an answer, Louise reaches over and stuffs a cushion into Tyler's face. “There,” she says, settling back on the sofa. “Problem solved. We can watch the movie in peace now.”

“Mmf,” says Tyler. “Mmf _mmmmf_.”

“Good,” says Louise. She lets the cushion drop away, and Tyler resurfaces, gasping and sulking. “Christ. I'll shut up, I'll shut up.”

Phil’s grinning now. Dan takes one look at the smirk on his face and flicks him hard on the back of his hand.

Phil barely bites back his yelp. He turns to look at Dan with the shock of betrayal in his eyes, and Dan grins back. It takes hardly half a second for Phil to start grinning too, with sheepishness laced around the edges of his smile. Their gazes lock for about two heartbeats before they both let go, and Dan turns his head to look at the screen instead, a smile still tugging at his lips.

The rest of the movie is uneventful. Tyler interjects with little bits of commentary quite often, but even his excited bubbling fizzles out after the first hour mark. The conversation fades completely soon after, and all that's left is an occasional rustle when someone reaches over to grab popcorn.

When the final credits start playing, Phil lets out a huge yawn and glances at the clock. “You know, it's kind of too late to start studying now, isn't it?”

Louise is already standing up from the sofa. “Nice try, Phil.”

Phil sighs. “Worth a shot.”

Group studying turns into group procrastination, and group procrastination turns to group dinner. By this point it's already an unspoken confirmation that they'll be staying over at Tyler's, so Dan pulls out the three labelled toothbrushes from the back of the bathroom cupboard and sets them next to the sink. Phil and Tyler pull out the spare mattresses, and Louise clears up the pizza boxes and dumps them in the trash.

A bit of studying, a round of Monopoly, and a lot of laughter later, Dan feels his eyelids start to slide shut of their own accord. Louise yawns. Tyler yawns too.

“Are we sleeping now?” Phil asks, looking amused.

“Of course not,” says Tyler. “It's only eleven!”

So as things progress, they naturally end up sitting cross-legged in their pyjamas on the mattresses, in some sort of cult circle formation with the lights switched off. Louise’s got a phone torch held underneath her chin, and Dan doesn't quite have the heart to tell her that she looks more funny than scary, so he just keeps his mouth shut and listens to the story.

“And so,” Louise whispers, “the monster creeps up behind the little girl, every step as silent as you could ever imagine. The little girl doesn't know. The little girl can't hear it, and she can't see it, because she is plucking flowers for her mummy to place in a nice vase that afternoon. The little girl doesn't notice, until the air around her changes from the fragrance of flowers to the horrid, reeking stink of rotten flesh and pure evil.”

“Whoa,” says Tyler softly.

“The little girl doesn't dare to turn her head. But she has to. Slowly, slowly, she looks around…”

Dan holds his breath.

In one swift movement, Louise switches off the torch and lets it drop to the floor with a clatter. Darkness floods the room, and Dan chokes back his scream, gripping Phil's hand with all the tightness he can muster. Phil squeezes back, and Dan can feel him shaking a little.

“Jesus Christ,” says Tyler. His voice is trembling.

“Jesus Christ,” Louise agrees. She switches on the torch, smiling, and Dan exhales. “Wasn't that good?”

“Very good,” says Phil weakly. “Now can we go to sleep?”

Dan laughs. “Yeah, let's.”

It's one in the morning by the time they finally settle down. The world outside is completely silent save for the occasional howl of wind, and Dan finds himself tracing the cracks on the ceiling with his eyes once again, just like he did the first night they slept over at Tyler's. Just like he did on the first night in his new dorm room, searching and hoping for answers. Just like he did when he was younger, much younger, alone in his room wondering what his life would become, if living on was even worth it, if he would ever find happiness.

He knows the answer to that now, he supposes. For once, the ceiling seems to smile down at him, and Dan smiles back.

“Goodnight,” says Tyler softly.

“Goodnight,” comes the choral reply. Then silence.

In the darkness, a hand slides into Dan’s, comforting and familiar. Dan doesn't need to turn to know who it is. He squeezes back, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift.

The warmth of Phil next to him feels like contentment, nostalgia, and excitement all at once. It feels like a wish come true, feels like a gentle promise of happiness, feels like a future of possibilities hand in hand.

“Goodnight, Phil,” Dan whispers, then he falls off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys so I'm sincerely sorry for not having updated this story in a long while. School has taken up almost all of my time in the past few months, and there's been very little time left available for me to sit down and write. This story will continue, but it might take me a long while to update again, because of my current (and future) workload. Thank you immensely for your support and I promise I'll try my best to find time for this fic!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated! Please leave a comment if you liked it/hated it/have an idea on how to improve it. Thanks for reading!
> 
> (tbc)


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